


Heaven Sent

by TransientGuest



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Devil, M/M, Nephilim, POV Multiple, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransientGuest/pseuds/TransientGuest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had the normal life of a starving artist until I saw the brooding man in that crappy alley. If only I could have left well enough alone, but no I had to paint him. Now I'm in loads of trouble. There are people after me and I have no idea why. Maybe the guy from the alley can help me out here. Then again, maybe he'll just complicate things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He was Brooding

He was brooding. Or... I guess that's just what I assumed he was doing. And you know what they say about assumptions. But still, I'm pretty sure he's brooding. He just looked so moody. Negative vibes were coming off of him in waves and his eyes were absolutely smoldering. He was sitting on some fire escape steps in a crappy alley. I guess all alleys are crappy, but the man didn't seem to mind. Maybe he did, actually, and that's why he looked so depressingly morbid. He just sat on the third step with his head resting on his hands. Every once in a while those eyes would lose focus and a dazed expression would appear on his handsome face. Those eyes were beautiful. Eyes that seemed to take in everything, yet nothing at all.

I took in the whole picture. He really stood out in the small lane. He was dressed nicely, so not a beggar, yet he sat on those rusty cancerous steps. They had to be making his pants dirty. But the question I really wanted answered: why hadn't anyone noticed him? Well, obviously I had noticed him but really, was I the only one? He stuck out like a Barbie at a G. I. Joe convention. Or maybe he was a G. I. Joe at a Barbie convention. He was too manly to be a Barbie. Either way, he stuck out. He didn't look like he belonged in this alley. Heck, he didn't look like he belonged on this side of the city. He should have been on the rich side living it up, not here with us... common folk. The man was different. I knew it. It was like something I could sense.

He was beautiful too. In a totally manly way. It was as if some Adonis just came down from the heavens and decided he might as well call Earth his home. A finely chiseled face was surrounded by brown-almost-black hair. And his eyes. I think I've already mentioned them a few times, but they were an absolutely captivating sapphire. They were so expressive too, when they weren't doing that glazing over. They told a person who looked into them thousands of stories and conflicting emotions. Betrayal. Pain. Happiness. Loss. All reflected in those perfect orbs. His skin seemed to radiate with beauty, pale but healthy. He absolutely glowed. And I knew that if I could gain his attention, and he smiled at me my life would be complete and I could die a happy man. Ok, I have a little more to live for than just that, but you get my picture right?

 _One so beautiful the angels seethe with envy_. I smiled; a sad little smile. The man did not see me, but I would never be able to get his image out of my mind. It would be burned into my retina for the rest of my life. He just seemed so sad. I wanted to hug him, but that would have been way too awkward on so many levels. Deciding I had spent enough time watching the unsuspecting stranger I turned away. Shoving my hands into my pajama pockets, I continued on my late night walk.

I was heading toward home. Or, what had been my home since the age of seventeen. I had some "creative differences" with my family that pertained, but wasn't limited, to my future occupation. My mother wanted her only child to be an upstart doctor or lawyer. Father, well he just wanted someone taking over the family auto mechanic business. There were many arguments at our house over which was the right choice for their son. Over who was the right, and better, parent. I hated it. If I would have stayed there, I would have ended up with a career choice I didn't choose, or want and one parent who resented me for choosing the other. Which would have led to more fighting, and quite frankly I couldn't deal with that. So I left. I wanted a career I chose. I wanted to paint. And that's exactly what I did.

You know all those glamorous stories about artists and how amazing their lives are? Yeah, neither do I. I was crushed when I found out how Van Gogh met his demise, and heck, I've sold more paintings in my lifetime than that poor man did. And then there's Kirchner's story isn't much better than Van Gogh's, but anything involving Hitler is generally bad. Actually, compared to them my life was fabulous. Sure, money was tight, and it showed in my cramped living area, but I love my profession. I have never regretted the decision to forge my own path in life. A path down the road of creativity. If I was Pocahontas I definitely chose the winding river bend.

I approached the run down building I lived in. Ah, home sweet home, and all that jazz. The beautiful, naturally red brick was trying to make itself known under the god awful purple paint that someone, clearly not in their right mind, decided would make a nice color for a large building. Sometimes when I was really bored I would go peel off the paint. The brick just looked so much nicer. It was easy to tell people where I lived though. Once they got on my street all I had to do was tell them to look for the horrible purple building, and lo and behold, they'd find me. The fire escape on the side of the building had more rust than a junk yard and I shuddered to think of what might happen to me if there was ever a fire where I'd have to use it. It'd probably collapse and I'd break my legs.

A cold wind blew. I shivered. It was starting to get cold. I mean, I had a jacket on but it was still pretty chilly. I probably would have to invest in a new coat. That, or stop going on my late night walks. That would never happen. I approached the door to the building smiling at the bullet hole that was in the glass on the front door. Normally you probably wouldn't laugh at something like that, but most of the time those bullets come from the outside too. Not this one though. Mr. Jacobson had been trying to fix his BB gun in the hallway. Guess what… He fixed it.

I punched in my code to get into the building. It was our top notch security system for keeping the building safe. Everyone and their mom knew the number for it. Sometimes I wondered why the landlady bothered with a lock at all. Tiptoeing into the building I made my way up to the second floor. I skipped over the fifth step 'cause it squeaked something awful and, technically speaking, tenants weren't supposed to leave their room from ten at night until six in the morning. Since it was reaching midnight I'd definitely be in trouble it the landlady caught me and the old bat seemed to have hearing like a… well, a bat. Needless to say, with these strict time restrictions I was the only person in the building below the age of seventy-five. All the people in the building, sans me, were retired or had part time day jobs. They were all usually eating dinner at two in the afternoon and in bed by six. I don't know how they stand that. But I did have the run of the apartment at night when I was a good boy and stayed inside.

I made it up the flight of steps without waking anybody up. I dashed soundlessly down the hall toward the third door down on the left. My humble abode. Carefully, I put my key in the door, jiggling it so it would go in all the way, and unlocked it. I was still trying to be very quiet. I swear, some of these old people could hear a pin drop. They couldn't hear when you were talking right in front of them, but as soon as the lights went out the developed supersonic hearing. Mr. Jacobson was one of those people. He was legally deaf, but seemed to hear _everything._ Let me tell you, the absolute _last_ thing I needed tonight was the old man to get our lovely landlady and complain because I breathed too heavy.

I walked through the front door and closed it softly behind me. I sighed in relief. I don't think I breathed the whole way up to my room. I took my jacket off and threw it on the floor. Right in front of the coat rack. I live alone. There are absolutely no points for decorum in this household and quite honestly I hate places that are clean and tidy. There isn't any reason to try to impress people that don't live in my home. Now, that's not saying I live like a pig. I just live comfortably. I like my home to feel… lived in.

My frumpy furniture was comfy and well used. None of it matched. I had gotten most of it from secondhand stores and auctions. There were canvases of every size imaginable stacked in random piles around the room. A whole wall was dedicated to bookshelves that stored no books. My paints and brushes and various other art supplies were kept on them. It looked like a starving artist's home. It _was_ a starving artist's home.

The only thing that was weird about this artist's abode was the easel. It sat empty, a thin coat of dust covering it. It hadn't been used in ages. You see, as of late I've been in a little bit of a frump. I guess I lost my muse or something stupid like that or maybe I just haven't been inspired by anything. Whatever the reason, I haven't been able to paint. Nothing was jumping out screaming, "Hey, paint me." Alright, so that never really happened. But nothing was sparking my normally burning fire of creativity. And I was beginning to worry. This is my job. If I don't paint I don't eat, and money was starting to get tight. There were cobwebs in my wallet.

I plopped down in my beat up armchair and gave a sigh. Seemed like it was going to be another day wasted. Frustrated I gave a sigh and raked a hand through my hair. I began tapping my left hand on the armrest. It was a nervous habit I picked up growing up. "Come on, think," that's right I'm talking to myself here. Remember: no one to impress, although I do this in public too. "There has to be something you can draw. It doesn't have to be a _masterpiece_ , just think of something."

I growled, picking up my sketchbook, which was conveniently located right next to my chair, and flung it open to a clean page. I wasn't feeling up to painting so maybe a media change would do the trick. I fumbled for the pencil I kept in the rings of my book. Grasping it tightly in left hand, I attacked the paper. I had a violent process when creating but the end results were usually striking. Two hours later and I found myself nearly finished.

I don't mean to toot my own horn or anything but I have to say it was a beautiful piece. It showed off my drawing style wonderfully. My style was realistic in proportion and had a lot of detail but I just loved those messy lines and high contrasting shadows. I was pretty happy with my product. I'm happy I was able to draw _anything_.

The picture, portrait actually, was of a man standing in a graveyard. Morbid right? He was leaning casually against one of those droopy trees. A weeping willow. He was holding in his hand a white rose. It looked as if it was just about ready to fall out of his loose grip onto the ground. Forgotten and dirtied. Just like whoever the man was saying goodbye to. He was the only person who still remembered who the person was and he alone was sad they were gone. I did a final check of the drawing paying special attention to the man's features. I wanted my proportions to be realistic. I took a good look at the face. My face heated up and I knew I was blushing.

"You have got to be kidding me," a high pitched chuckle found its way out of my mouth. "This has got to be some kind of sick joke the spirits are playing on me," I don't know why I laughed. I found no humor in this situation. Maybe there was some irony at work somewhere here but definitely no humor. There on the paper was the spitting image of that beautiful man.


	2. An Exquisite Corpse

You know, the man who looked like he had way too much on his shoulders. Well… actually now that I'm looking at the drawing, I _mostly_ drew the man. The only thing I left out were his eyes. I hadn't even attempted to screw them up choosing instead to leave that part blank. It looked eerie with those two white spots but seemed to fit with the rest of the picture. But there was absolutely no way I could have captured those expressive orbs correctly. The emotions would not be properly represented in such a small space. Maybe I'd make a larger painting and put the eyes in. I stared at the picture for probably another hour before deciding that it was, in fact done.

I looked at the picture fondly. "Well, I guess you're as finished as you're gonna get. Let's spray you and take you to Tim's."

Because I have absolutely no life outside of my art, it was already early morning by the time I was ready to leave for Tim's. I had not slept more than four consecutive hours, but still was energized and almost excited to present a new picture after being away from myself for so long. I knew that at this time most of the tenants were down in the kitchen eating a good old family styled breakfast. I avoided that room at all cost. The people in that room talked too loud, probably due to their varying degrees of deafness, and the room had developed an essence of mothballs. I swear it was like the old ladies wore it like the latest perfume. Another reason to avoid the room: I hated family meals. My experiences of them were not good ones. They were the most awkward times at my house, if you don't count the time my dad caught me masturbating. But that's a story for another time… My family would sit around the table fishing for topics in an attempt to keep us connected. I think it did nothing but increase the divide between us. The conversations always fell flat and we lacked the effort it took to actually pay attention to what the other was saying. To put it simply we just didn't really _care_. I will say it again, I _hate_ family meals.

Clutching the painting to my chest I made a run for it. I did not need to get sucked into one of my neighbor's _philosophical_ conversations while I only had four hours of sleep. Their arguments might actually start to make sense. In two skips and a jump I was out the front door and halfway down the block well away from the gathered tenants. I continued to the end of the block and turned right, crossing the street and then walked two more blocks to a little corner shop called _Assorted Art From Around the Block_. In my opinion the name was stupid. Who named a place something like that? Apparently Tim did… If it were anyone else I'd seriously question their sanity. And their taste. Actually I still question Tim's taste every once in a while. Anyway, back to the name… I guess the good thing about it is people know exactly what was in the shop. Yup, it was a food mart. Just kidding, obviously an art shop. And it was owned by a very charismatic salesman.

I pushed open the front door of the little shop and a bell chimed alerting the owner that a potential customer just walked into his domain. Too bad for him, he'd be disappointed. I wasn't a customer. Never would be… The large jovial man accosted me, bounding out of the storage room that was located behind the sales desk. "Howdy! Tim's m' name. Emptin' yer wallet's m' fav'rite game!" He rubbed his meaty hands together greedily.

I arched my eyebrow at him giving him my best offended face. It failed miserably. I have a horrible poker face and I almost always laugh when trying to act serious. "Maybe I'm new to this whole sales thing but I'm pretty sure that's not such a good sales pitch."

"Allen!" the man boomed, laughing happily. "Allen, my man. I've missed yeh. How's m' fav'rite local artist doin' this fine day?" I love Tim, I really do, but I have no clue what he's saying most of the time. But he was an awesome person and always wore a huge infectious smile on his teddy bear face.

A thought just dawned on me, "I'm your only local artist." Well favorite out of one. Not bad Allen, you're pretty awesome.

Tim shrugged it off, "Ah, don't look at all the nitty gritty details. Besides if that were true, this shop would have gone under by now," Tim said poking fun. It just wasn't fair he knew of my creative slump. I had come in here whining… uh, with great dignity and maturity, and he had the gull to hold it against me. Every chance he got he was taking jabs at my pride, said it helped build character. I just thought it was annoying. But c'est la vie.

I batted my eyes at him, "Keep up the sweet talking and I might just keep this drawing." I gave him a coy smile, hoping it aggravated him.

"Ah, promises, promises. Now shut up an' give me the stupid panitin'," snorting Tim grabbed for the painting.

I relinquished my hold on my artwork and let Tim's turn it around so he could assess the piece. He would only sell pieces he deemed worthy at his shop. "Wow pal, it's…it's… uh." Tim scratched the back of his head. "It's not quite as _colorful_ as your other pieces," he finished lamely. Wow, he sure knew how to make a guy feel good.

He didn't need to tell _me_ it was different. I knew. It wasn't even my preferred medium. I was more of a painting kind of guy. I like painting abstract pictures with bright colors. They often consisted of a design that flowed like a lava lamp with subtle changes in color. Then I put a patterned line design, kind of like a tessellation of sorts, on top of the bright colors. "If you don't like it, don't sell it," I said through gritted teeth. I mean, it was simple logic… right?

"Nah, it's not that. Frankly I think it's a fine piece. it's just not your usual style. Yeh been holdin' out on me? Or are yeh going through some kind of gothic stage or somethin'?" Yeah, Picasso had his blue period, I'd have my gothic stage.

"No. It's just the only thing I could think of to draw," I answered truthfully leaving out the snarky comeback that was begging to be released.

"Ah well, that's OK then. Can't have yeh starvin'. I'll give you 85 bucks fer it."

Eighty-five dollars was more than I had ever hoped to get for this pencil drawing. It wasn't even finished. I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. This was fantastic. "85 dollars?" I asked just trying to make sure I heard him right.

Tim must have thought I was disappointed with the price. For such a bodacious salesman he was a real pushover when it came to his artists. "Yeah, well it's kinda small and… well it is very well drawn though… and… Aw hell," I gave him a stern look. He knew how I felt about swearing. It made me sick, literally. It took me a long time to even be able to think them without getting sick. He gave me an apologetic smile. "Alright, yeh convinced me. I'll give yeh 110 fer it."

"Sure," I would gladly accept the money. I was also afraid that if I didn't say anything he'd offer more money and I didn't want to take advantage of him. "Thanks Tim. I'll come back with my next piece shortly. Maybe that one will have more color on it." I said my goodbyes and headed out of the shop. Before the door was closed I heard Tim yell for me to get home. Apparently it was "fixin' to storm" or something like that. But I wanted to go to the park, so totally ignoring Tim's warnings I went the few blocks over to the little park. It was a favorite place of mine. Before the alley it was probably my number one place to walk on my late night rendezvous.

I walked around the park just enjoying the cool breeze.

Sure enough, it started raining not twenty minutes after I arrived at the little park. I seriously considered walking around in the rain to search for something to paint for about one hundredth of a second before deciding against the idea. I really didn't like rain that much. And it was that little misty rain, the stuff that was too wet to be just obnoxious humidity but too scared to man up and become a real rain drop. Me and mist didn't get along. In short it was just a miserable day. Might as well spend it inside. So I decided I could brave the mist and headed back to my apartment.

It was on the way back when it happened. I saw _him_. I actually had to stop and stare. The guy was out during the day. I don't know why I was so shocked. Up until now I guess I had fashioned the mysterious man into some vampiric being. Fangs and all. It was somewhat of a relief to know that my silly fantasy was nothing more than that. It was a stupid notion anyway. It's not like vampires are real. They were something made up to scare little children and make teenage girls hearts flutter.

But, I found myself thinking that if vampires were real this man would definitely be one. He was just walking. Sulking, actually. His head hung low, hands crossed over his chest, as if he were trying to keep out the whole world.

He looked like he needed a hug. Badly. Honestly the idea of giving him one wasn't exactly unappealing either. But, I'm a bit of a coward when it comes to acting on impulse and his body language just screamed, "Stay away!" with a big fat exclamation point. So I did. I just stood there and watched the man as he slumped out of view. Probably looked like a real moron standing there with my mouth open. At least I wasn't drooling. That man was beginning to show up more and more. Maybe if I plucked some courage from somewhere I would attempt to talk to him.

That night I could barely function my mind was too consumed with thoughts of that man. I wanted to know him. Know what his laugh sounded like. Know his scent. See his smile. Know what he liked. Know pretty much everything about him. Oh my God, I'm obsessed. I tried to sleep on my wonderfully lumpy futon but I couldn't. He was interrupting my sleep now. Jerk.

I slid off my makeshift bed with a sigh, grabbed my coat from the floor and quietly snuck out of my apartment. Making my usual rounds through the neighborhood, I was surprised and fairly disappointed to find the enigmatic man absent from his alley perch. Maybe he finally realized someone had notices his late night sits and didn't like the idea of my ogling… er, looking as he pondered away on those steps. Maybe he just found a better place to sit. Either way he wasn't there and I felt strangely sad that I didn't get to see him this night. I should have talked to him earlier. What if I never got the chance now? I'm an idiot… The disappointment killed my mood and I shuffled the rest of my way home.

I was tired but instead of going to bed like a good little boy I immediately began to work. This time I pulled out the real deal. A canvas. Yes, I decided it was time to paint again. I carefully applied different colors of paint taking my time as I got back into the swing of things. There was no need to rush the process. I have no life. The picture slowly began to take shape.

I can honestly say I wasn't embarrassed in the slightest by what I saw staring back at me a few hours later. Actually, I kind of expected it.

There he was again, that beautiful man. He had inspired me to start painting again. Yet I didn't even know his name. Actually, I didn't really know anything about him, just that he sat in an alley every once in a while. And you know, I think I'm kind of crushing on him… maybe, a little. He doesn't even know I exist and he probably never would. I'm very non confrontational.

I declared the painting finished, wrapped it up once it was dry. I used acrylic paint. I'm too impatient to use oil, and it stinks. And then it was off to Tim's shop.

When I got to the store I flung the door open and quite literally threw the piece at Tim's head. In hindsight it probably wasn't the best idea. Thankfully he caught it and looked at me with something like disbelief on his face. "Wow, two in two days. I'm impressed." He carefully unwrapped the cloth and gawked at what was underneath.

I could tell by the wide smile stretching its way across his lips that he liked it. And I have to admit, I was quite smitten with it as well.

It was breathtaking.

The center point was a coffin. Now I normally hate doing things that look too symmetrical but this just seemed to work. The coffin was beautiful, embellished with intricate designs and predominantly an ebony color. Laying smack dab in the middle of the box was the man from the alley, eyes closed, 'cause I didn't want to paint them, holding a bouquet of red roses. An exquisite corpse. Ha.

"Well yeh _did_ use a bit more color I s'pose." Tim joked taking in the monochromatic painting. "It's really nice. How 'bout 200 even?"

Worked for me. I shrugged, "Sure that will be fine," I was way more than satisfied with the proposed amount. I left the shop in good spirits, waving a happy goodbye to Tim on the way out. I whistled a happy tune, could have been the theme from _Sesame Street_ but if you had asked me if that's what I had been whistling I would have denied it. Next thing I knew, I was having a very unwanted encounter with the sidewalk. Whatever I had bumped into was _hard_ it hadn't moved in the slightest.

"Oops," I scrambled to my feet mortified. I can't believe I just did that. I had actually run into something, or someone. I looked up sheepishly. "Sorry sirs. Wasn't paying attention." I apologized hastily. Something about these guys just made me want to get away. Fight-or-flight. There was absolutely no way a fight was going to happen I'd be pummeled. And I was seeing double. That's right they were twins. Completely identical and completely ginormous. I couldn't help but give a nervous laugh. "Boy are you two tall," I shakily said before scuttling away like a scared bunny.

Sleep sounded like the best thing ever right now so I headed home. The image of those guys plagued my mind. They were just so weird. They were tall. Like Andre the Giant tall and definitely worked out. They had brown hair and gray, almost silver, eyes that made me feel uncomfortable when they were focused on me. And I don't mean uncomfortable in a good way. They reminded me of a predator. Those scary eyes so much like those of a shark. I shuddered. Running into people like that wasn't my idea of a fun time. Hopefully I won't be seeing them again. And you know maybe it I did, that guy would be around to save me. I had a feeling if I ever saw them again, I'd need saving or I might end up dead.


	3. They're Bad for You

Over the next two weeks I painted. It seemed like I did nothing else. I completed a picture almost every day. From what Tim said the paintings were quite a hit. Especially among the ladies. The only bad thing about the past two weeks: no sign of the man who was the star of my paintings. I missed seeing the man on those sleepless nights. I don't know why, maybe it was stupid, but I just expected him to be there sitting on those steps or walking down the street. Obviously he had a life. It was dumb to think he was out hanging in alleys all the time. He no doubt had a home he went back to. Probably had a wife and kids. It's not like he knew how much I depended on just catching a glimpse of him. But not seeing the man for so long was beginning to make me question myself. Had he been real or just a figment of my imagination? I mean, I was desperate at the time, but I really didn't think my imagination was good enough to make up a man that was so beautiful.

I walked my usual morning trek to Tim's shop intent on giving him the newest of my paintings. It was by far the most colorful one I had painted yet. It was also the largest piece I had painted standing at a height of about five feet. There was a vibrant sunset in the background. But the predominant part of the picture was the city. More specifically the alley that the man sat in so often. There the man sat on his third step a look of pure anguish on his face. Out of his back protruded two beautiful downy wings of the most beautiful white. Well, they would have been beautiful if they were intact. They were mangled, ripped to bits and covered in blood that dripped down his exposed back. It was a sad yet mystifying sight to behold.

I walked into Tim's and thrust the piece out for him to see smirking proudly. There was an audible gasp from Tim before the painting was in a new set of arms. Tim's to be exact. "Wow, this has ta be yer finest work ever!" Tim's excitement over the painting made me swell with pride. If he kept flattering me like this he was going to have to install a double door so I could fit my fat head into the shop. "Tell yah what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna give you $500 and I'm gonna keep the thing in here ta show what talent we have right here in our very own city. It'll stay right here." Tin motioned to the area behind the register and hung in up a wide grin on his face.

I can't believe Tim bought one of my paintings. He never buys anything for himself. "Wow Tim, that's strange," I commented lamely returning Tim's dorky grin with a charming one of my own.

"Oh, speakin' of strange, m' good buddy. Two dudes, really creepy dudes, came in here and kept starin' at yer artwork. They looked mighty interested and asked who painted them. So, I told 'em it was you. No harm in tellin' a name right. Maybe they're dealers or somethin'. But they sure did scare me."

"So creepy looking men came in here and you told them my name?" I asked just to make sure I heard him right.

"Yup."

"Fabulous," I said sarcastically. My mind had immediately flashed to those two guys from the other day. The ones who I ran into coming out of Tim's shop. It probably wasn't them. Tim said they were art critics, but the thought that it could be gave me chills. I was scared. But I couldn't do anything about it now. I summoned up a shaky smile that fell flat of being genuine and thanked Tim for passing them my way. "If they come back, let me know." I made my way over to the door. The bell chimed as I pushed it open. "Bye Tim. See you tomorrow with another painting." I waved excitedly to him as the door sprang shut.

I hear a muffled "Take care kid," from the big softy on the other side.

I spent the rest of my day in the park then headed back to my apartment intent on getting a full night's rest and actually being in my room in time for curfew. Okay, so I was always back in time for curfew. I just had a nasty habit of taking late night strolls.

When I got to my door I had an unwelcomed surprise waiting for me. Dread pooled in my stomach and all at once I wanted to be sick. This is not how I wanted to end my night. Mr. Jacobson was waiting. For me. God, why do you hate me? Maybe if I turn around right now…

"Hey," why? Why did he have to see me? "Allen. Allen. Is that you?"

All hope of leaving fled when he started to speak. If I left now I'd have it twice as hard the next time he caught me. Resigning myself to my fate I answered. "Yeah Mr. Jacobson, it's me."

The crotchety old man made his way over to me cupping a hand to his ear as he shuffled forward, not even bothering to use his cane to help him walk. "What's that? I can't hear you."

"Yeah, it's me," I hissed, more intensely but a lot quieter. This really wasn't what I needed right now. Allen needs sleepy.

Of course he heard me that time… I'm just not a big fan of old people. But I'm not rude enough to blow him off. "Keep your cotton pickin' friends away from here. I was sleeping and they woke me up. Damn youngin's were being so fuckin' loud." The old man griped.

I blanched at his word choice. _Damn. Fuckin'._ I couldn't handle those words.

"Who?" I managed to squeak out. It was a miraculous feat considering all I wanted to do was vomit.

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation and shouted, "Your friends! Two creepy looking tall guys."

 _What_? That couldn't be a coincidence. Two creepy tall guys. Near Tim's all the time. Asking for my name. What if they were really creepers and found out my address? I mean, stranger things have happened. I'm still hoping they're art critics or really anything related to my profession. Something is telling me they're not, though, and I think that something is right. Call it artist's intuition.

That still left me with one very important question. Why were they looking for me? It's not like I did anything to them. Besides run into them… and call them tall… and act like a total spaz. Maybe I dropped something like a wallet and they wanted to return it. Or maybe they wanted to murder me… probably not quite that extreme, but they just seemed so unfriendly.

I was jerked out of my musings by Mr. Jacobson's next comment. "Do you do drugs Allen? Are they your dealers?"

 _Really_. I can't believe he would accuse me of doing drugs. I mean it's not like I was a starving artist barely scraping by, that barely had enough money to eat. It's not like I slept on a lumpy futon because I couldn't afford any additional furniture in my room. It's not like I was wearing an old beat up jacket with holes practically everywhere. There was a conveniently placed one right at my elbow and a bandage could be seen through the hole. I had accidently stabbed myself with an x-acto knife. Okay so it probably looked like I did drugs. So sew me. "No, I don't do drugs."

"Oh good," he seemed satisfied by my answer. Then as an afterthought he added. "They're bad for you." As if I didn't know that. That's probably one of the first things I learned, right up there with using the potty and learning to talk. Drugs were bad. This conversation couldn't possibly get any worse.

The old man swallowed and asked hesitantly, "You didn't hire them did you?"

Okay, I was wrong it could get worse. I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "Mr. Jacobson, what could I possibly hire them for?" I found myself wishing, not for the first time, that the old man was at least half as deaf as he pretended to be. Or maybe the floor would turn into some kind of tar pit and swallow me up. Put me out of my misery. This conversation was just so pointless.

"You know," the man said suggestively wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

"No. I don't..." Am I slow? Did I miss something? _Should_ I know what he's talking about? I don't think so. Maybe I don't want to know what he means.

"Sure you do. I mean, you're male. You need to get your rocks off somehow and while I prefer females, I know you youngin's and experimenting and..."

Oh… _Oh_. Yep, I was slow. My face turned a nice shade of red. How embarrassing. For some reason I suddenly didn't care what Mr. Jacobson had to say. It was time to make a break for it. During our _lovely_ conversation he had stepped a great deal away from my door. I quickly strode past him and hid myself inside my apartment with a forceful slam of my door. The deadbolt was locked in seconds. That was enough of that. I'd deal with his wrath later if he even remembered that he was talking to me.

A few seconds later I heard pounding on my door and muffled callings of my name. The man was nothing if not persistent. I always thought that was a good quality. Now, not so much. After a few minutes the knocking died down and blessed silence filled the room. _Finally_.

"Alright. Now that I'm thoroughly embarrassed, time to get some shuteye." I stretched and felt a coolness on my stomach where my shirt pulled up revealing the flesh of my stomach. I shuffled my way through the apartment slowly to my makeshift bedroom. Sleep sounded like a really good idea. No painting tonight. Need sleep…

_Meanwhile..._

Two hulking figures sat high in a tree looking in on the young man. Humans were so pathetic. He had no idea they were there. It definitely worked in their favor that he was so oblivious. But how could a species that was supposed to be so advanced not notice their presence? They were doing little to conceal themselves in that tree and the kid had no blinds or curtains on his window. Hopefully he would remain unaware of their presence until they wanted it known.

Now that's not to say he hadn't already seen them. No, they had run into him in the front of that art shop. They hadn't even known he was the one who painted those pictures at the time but now that they weren't quite as ignorant they were watching. Watching for any sign of the man who was in the picture. The kid was insignificant. Sure he was good eye candy. And under different circumstances they might consider perusing him, but not now. All that mattered was the man in the paintings. They had been looking for him for years and it finally seemed they would find him. All thanks to Allen. The kid obviously knew him. There's no way he would have been able to paint him otherwise. The guy probably got sloppy and modeled for the young artist and the artist was unfortunately stupid enough to paint that disgusting creature. That was the only explanation there was, but as of yet their watching proved to be useless.

The kid was always alone. Nobody other than the boy ever came and went from his room. Nobody ever was around him, besides that fat store owner and the crazy old man. So where was the man they were looking for? How did he fit into the equation? They needed to know. Soon, very soon.

"What do you think, Van?" the one asked the other who was obviously in charge.

The man looked at him a hard determination in his predatory silver eyes. The kid went for walks most nights by himself. They had watched him on more than one occasion leaving his apartment in the early morning hours. That would be the perfect time to strike. "Tomorrow we get our answers by force."

"How we gonna do that?"

Van rolled his eyes at how clueless this one was. Why couldn't he be blessed with a smart brother? They were twins; shouldn't they be a little more alike? It mattered little though. They were all merely pawns. Pawns to be used for their master's amusement and pleasure. "The same way we always do it." he gave a guttural chuckle revealing a set of razor sharp teeth. This was going to be fun.


	4. Who is Tiearyu?

I woke up feeling well rested. It was weird. I can't remember the last time that happened. On top of that I had slept through the night. It was awesome. I felt invincible, like I could take on a great white and win. I just have a good feeling today. It was going to be a great one, and I could already feel my creative juices starting to flow.

I looked at my cell phone to check the time. 1:28; I had slept a long time. I shook my arms out to get them working a little quicker and set to work. You guessed it: I was painting again. And yes, it was a picture of the man. What else would it be? I was beginning to feel like a one-trick-pony. And if I was a pony I was definitely a Shetland. They're spunky.

Somewhere along this train of thought, my mind wandered back to thoughts of that man. Don't they always. But I suddenly had an idea and the perfect excuse to meet the guy. Why not give the painting to the man? It would be the perfect way to thank him for all he has done for me. It might be a little creepy, I mean, he's never met me and I'd be handing him a picture of himself, but it'd probably be worth it in the long run. As long as he was flattered rather than weirded out I'd be fine. I decided this picture would be the one to give him. Now all I had to do was finish it.

A couple hours later found me putting the finishing touches on the painting. Next step: finding the man. And then getting him to take it. Maybe I'd throw in trying to convince him I'm not a stalker.

I don't think this is going to be as easy as it sounds in my head. I don't really think it sounds easy in my head…

I picked up my paints and washed my brushes in the sink. Leaving them sitting on the side to dry, I grabbed my painting with barely contained excitement and bounces out of my door heading for the park. I wanted to start somewhere where the man might be at this hour. I had never seen him in the alley this early, so I'd save that for last on my little excursion through the town. Meandering my way through the park turned out to be a little bit of a letdown. I was hopeful when seeing little signs of movement but it never turned out to be him. I saw an extreme Frisbee game. Plenty of people were reading under the street lamps. There was even a couple out for what appeared to be a romantic night under the stars. But the person I was looking for was nowhere to be found. So much for this being easy… I checked a few other places around town before exhausting all of my options. Might as well check the alley now.

On my way to the small side road I looked down every street, and small pass for a sign of the man in hopes that he'd be down one. My heart was beating fast with anticipation. I was rarely ever this bold about anything. Giving this painting was almost like screaming my attraction to this guy. In a totally artistic kind of way. You know he had a good face for modeling and had that whole mysterious vibe going on.

On this seemingly impossible mission I got bored of walking in silence and began to hum a song to myself. And to be honest I was feeling a little uncomfortable. You know that eerie feeling you get. That one like you're being watched. Yeah? I had that now. I wonder if the man felt this way when I watched him and that's why he had started visiting the alley less. I heard a noise and snapped my head toward the sound.

Go figure… It just so happened to be coming from a dark alley. Not the one I was used to seeing the man in, but one really close to it. So what did I do… yup went down the alley looking for the source of the sound. That's obviously the smartest decision when by yourself late at night. Putting my unease behind me I pressed forward into the alley in search of my man…eh. _The_ man.

"Should have brought a flashlight," I muttered as I descended deeper and deeper into the alley. It was dark and I'm a wuss. Light always made me feel braver.

I heard something right in front of me. There was a pitter-patter of feet. A loud clang made me jump. The sound reverberated off the walls on either side of me, looking for a way out of this place. Maybe I should too… Whatever it was rolled a few seconds until it came to rest directly in front of my feet. It was a trashcan. Rustling was coming from inside toe metal bin. And then all at once the rustling stopped. The thing making the noise had sprung out of the trash and head butted my leg. Then it continued to weave in and out of my legs rub against them. It was small, furry and _adorable_. I'm so glad I came into this alley. I set my picture on the ground gently and crouched down to pet the animal that had caused all of that noise.

"Hey kitty cat, what are you doing here?" I smiled at the tiny gray fluff ball. It was beyond cute. After a few minutes of loving the cat had enough and scampered away. Just like that it was time to resume my search. I picked up my picture and headed toward the first place I had seen the man.

I was one short block away from my destination. My heart was fluttering in my chest and my palms were sweaty. It was like I was going to give a speech. Never thought I'd get so nervous about meeting someone. I guess I just really want him to like me. I turned the corner into the alley.

It was empty.

Oh great. I deflated. My whole body felt heavy. I had wanted to meet him, thank him so bad and he wasn't here. I suppose I could just come back another night with the painting, but I really wanted to give it to him tonight. Don't ask me why it matters so much. I don't know.

I sat down on the fire escape steps and held the painting in front of me like a lifeline. Maybe he'd come through later? Yeah… I'd wait here for a while and he'd show up. I looked at my cell phone for the time. 12:22. Wow lots of twos… Maybe an hour. If he wasn't here in an hour I'd leave.

I sat there staring out at the road forever. Wouldn't it be funny if he came in from the other side? He'd probably give me a heart attack.

But he never came.

I was just about to get up and head home when I heard a commotion coming from behind me. Going with the theme of the night, I'd like to say it was another animal. This noise really didn't sound like a harmless kitty cat. Maybe it was a dog. Yeah, that had to be it. And in the next alley I'd see a goat… or something. I heard a noise almost like sucking, _slurping._ Okay if it was a dog it was _sick_. I knew if I didn't go see what was wrong with it I wouldn't be able to sleep. I left my painting sitting on the fire escape steps and went to investigate a dark alley for the second time this evening.

I blushed.

It was a couple. In the middle of a heated make out session. I had just witnessed something way too private for my liking. They were really going at it. I averted my eyes not wanting to watch them but too afraid to move. Didn't want them to notice me standing there and as of yet they hadn't. I heard that slurping noise again. It was so loud it actually made me jump. My gaze shot back to the couple. I know there was some spit involved in making out but it just sounded way too gross.

Oh… _God_. Holy poop on a Popsicle. They _weren't_ making out. The man was… _Jesus_. The man was tearing the woman's neck apart. Blood was gushing from the wound. Each time the man bit down he dug deeper into her bloodied neck. There was a squishing sound. I felt sick. That hadn't been spit swapping I'd heard but her blood oozing out from between his teeth. I gagged.

The man looked up from his meal's neck and smiled, a revolting grin filled with meat and blood. _Human_ meat and blood. I puked. I couldn't help it. He was still looking at me as I watched the woman shuddering in his arms. She was still alive. And the way the man was looking at me, I'd be the next course. I tried to move, but was literally frozen in terror. I had always laughed at movies where the heroine would freeze up in life or death situations like this. It was stupid. But now I felt every bit the scared little girl they were. Maybe movies knew what they were talking about…sometimes.

I couldn't tear my eyes away, couldn't even blink. The man realized by now that I wasn't going anywhere. His grin widened. A piece of flesh fell from his abnormally sharp teeth. _Oh, God…_

It was one of the creepy guys. The predators, _definitely_ predators, from in front of Tim's. The woman in his arms went limp in his arms. He gave a guttural chuckle and muttered, "Pathetic."

I watched horrified as the man dropped the body. Apparently I was more interesting than the bloodied woman. I was in trouble. He started slinking toward me taking slow calculating steps. Come on legs, now's as good a time as any. _Work!_

"Oh, is little Allen afraid?" the man jeered.

Afraid? No. I can honestly say I'm not afraid. I passed that a long time ago. I'm absolutely petrified.

Wait... He knew my name. Oh, yeah Tim. Thanks...

Good news though. At the sound of his voice my legs decided it was a good time to work. I slowly began to back away from him. He increased his pace.

I spun around and started running for my life. If I could just get to the fire escape… I smashed into something hard. Another guy. The other in this set of two. He wrapped his arms around me holding me in a vice grip. I'm totally and completely screwed.

"Where's Tiearyu?" the one holding me growled.

 _Who?_ I was about to ask what they were talking about when I was spun around roughly facing the one who's snack I had interrupted.

"Come on you little turd," that one shouted. Spittle flew from his mouth landing on my face. It smelled like blood. I gagged. "It was uh… nice of you to save us the trouble of finding you. But you better tell us where that God forsaken man is. We know you've seen him."

So Tiearyu was a man. I wish I knew something, anything to get these two away from me. "Let me go!" I screeched struggling against the arms around me. All that earned me was a punch in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of me and I gasped for breath. These guys were made of steel.

"Come on kid," the man holding me whispered into my ear. "We don't want to hurt you." Somehow that would have been a lot more convincing before the punch to the stomach… and the dead woman. "We just want to know where that bastard Tiearyu is." _Who is Tiearyu?_

"W-Who's T-tiear, Tiearyu?" I managed to squeak out. It sounded a lot tougher in my head.

Apparently that wasn't the right thing to say.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," the man in front of me slapped a hand to his forehead. I winced. "Maybe a little sample Van? Might get the little fucker talking."

My stomach did a little somersault before deciding to jump out my mouth again. There wasn't anything else to throw up, and bile dribbled from the corner of my mouth. Neither of them even batted an eye.

"If you must," the man holding me drawled out. And then I was free. He let go of me I was so stunned I didn't move for a couple of seconds. By the time I started to move it was too late. I was pushed forward into the other man's arms.

He grabbed my wrist tightly and began pulling it toward his mouth. I knew what was happening. I shouted something indiscernible and struggled like my life depended on it. Probably did. There was a sickening crack and my cry was cut off abruptly by another hand the other brother. I whimpered. Pretty sure he broke my wrist. "Make one more noise and I'll gut you like a pig." The one holding the hand over my mouth hissed.

By this point I gave up. The man was going to bite me. Tear into me like he did that woman. I'd die. Instead I was licked almost tenderly. I was shell-shocked. I was disgusted and even more terrified. Tender was bad. Tendered applied that there would be an unwanted adjective in front of the diagnosis of assault when someone found my body here. What would my parents think. What would the man think about his brooding spot?

All of these thoughts flew abandoned me when teeth savagely tore into my flesh. Very sharp teeth.

I cried out in pain. My wrist hurt more now than when they broke it. The sucking sound was back, but this time it was coming from me. My wrist. My blood. What had I been dragged into? The man was sucking my blood like a… like a vampire. Were they vampires? Or did they just have a sick fetish. Either way it didn't matter. Knowing wouldn't help me.

It hurt. As he continued to suck it became more and more painful. Each draw of blood feeling like thousands of needles coursing through my veins. I began openly sobbing.

Spots were swimming in my vision. I felt woozy. How long was this guy going to drink? Just when I thought I was going to pass out the one with a hand clamped over my mouth intervened.

"That's enough," the drinker didn't listen. "Desoto, that's enough. We need him alive for now," he hissed. For now didn't sound too good to me. The other ripped his fangs from my wrist. _Oww._

He growled in disappointment, "But Van, that's the sweetest blood I've ever tasted. If _I_ can't drain him dry, I say you do. After we get the info."

Van seemed to like this idea. He gave a dark chuckle. I was spun around to face the other twin. Van. Desoto's arms snaked around my waist while his brother's grabbed either side of my head forcing me to look into his silver eyes. Predator's eyes. I was dead.

And confused. So confused my sobs subsided. My heart was pounding with dread but the guy wasn't doing anything. Not that I'm complaining… He was looking into my eye as if searching for something. Something he knew was there.

Pain. Like an arrow being shot into my eyes. It exploded in my head white and hot. It felt like my very thoughts were the target of this swiftly moving arrow. Nothing would be safe from it. My vision swam and all of a sudden it didn't feel like I was with the two brutes anymore.

I was reliving my life-like a movie in my mind. Events flashed through my head all fleeting and out of focus. Learning to walk. My first kiss. Fighting with my parents. Getting my first painting in a gallery show. Moving to the city. Learning to talk. Finding the pickle on my Christmas tree. The strange guy in the alley.

That memory seemed to slow down, get more intense. It was as if my mind had locked into anything containing that man. That guy was picking my brain with a sledge-hammer. I lived through every moment with that man. Felt the emotions that I had experienced on each occasion. I realized then that my heart fluttered a lot when I was around him. Now I realize what that was. Attraction. Genuine attraction. Like, "I wanna date you" attraction.

Great. It takes vampires tearing my mind to shreds for me to realize I'm attracted to the guy. That I wanted to have more than a friendly relationship with him. I wanted an extra friendly relationship.

The thoughts stopped and my mind felt strangely blank. The sudden stop of pictures and emotions left me feeling drained. More so than I already was. My legs felt like they were made of Jell-O. My whole body was shaking, convulsing. I felt violated. They had seen my innermost thoughts and memories. Those were mine. What right did they have to see them? These men were nothing to me.

I crumbled in on myself my body no longer able to support itself. If not for the strong arms around my waist I would have ended up on the ground.

Van's arms snaked around my waist, replacing his brothers, and pulled me uncomfortably close. "I love it when they crumble like little more than broken dolls," he chuckled darkly. Is that what I was? What I looked like? A doll…

He ran a hand through my hair. I weakly tried to shy away from his touch, but I couldn't muster up enough strength to even turn my head. I just closed my eyes. Hopefully it would all be over soon. "It will be quite a shame to kill this one. He is rather pretty. But, alas, we no longer need him. He was telling the truth. He didn't know Tiearyu."

With that said I was pulled even closer to the vampire. His head nuzzled into the crook of my neck and my heart leapt into my throat. I was gonna end up like that lady. And I was too weak to stop it from happening. He nipped and sucked at my flesh playing with my. Probably got off on making me suffer.

I let out a whimper as those teeth slid into my neck.

Time seemed to pass slowly. Each gulp painfully exaggerated.

At some point the other joined in biting into my left elbow.

I could feel myself fading fast. Panicking on the inside but able to do little. I tried in vain to get some control back over my body. The haze around my mind was growing thicker and thicker.

I remember them switching spots and biting somewhere else. But could no longer feel their bites.

I was just there.

I'm going to die.

So tired.

Maybe if I just…

I knew no more.


	5. Flawless

The vampires finished their meal reluctantly. Van was in ecstasy. Never had he had blood so sweet and filling. He wished he could have kept the morsel, but Tiearyu needed to see this one dead as a reminder of what his life was costing those around him. The young man's life was over. His heart still beat slowly, but would stop soon enough. They always did. Humans were so fragile. So absolutely _pathetic._

Van dropped the kid to the ground satisfied by the way he was sprawled on the dirty asphalt of the alley. The boy's eyes were open and unseeing. Van was kind of sad now that it was all over.

The kid was dead and he almost cared, how disgusting.

But he had relished in the killing. In the breaking of this little lamb's mind. The mind was so fragile. Especially the human mind. Yeah, it didn't take much to completely fuck the human mind over. And Van had fucked many. Minds that is...

And that blood. It had been calling to him from inside those beautiful veins. It was so sweet. Sweeter than any he had ever tasted. It confused him. Blood shouldn't taste like that. If their orders weren't to destroy anything associated with Tiearyu Van would have kept this one. But their master had to be obeyed at all cost. His words were absolute.

They had bitten the child in seven different places and used their saliva to keep the wounds open. There was no questioning it: the kid was going to bleed out. It had been enjoyable making this young artist into a canvas filled with the artistic marks of the vampire.

But now Van felt empty. The joy he felt had been fleeting and seemed cheep now. The kid had deserved better. "Let us take out leave, brother. We have taken everything this child could offer us."

Desoto nodded his agreement. He looked down at the kid, "So long turd. Too bad you made yourself out enemy. You would have been a great artist. Painter of things that should never be painted." Obviously Desoto felt just as saddened by the kid's death as Van. He didn't often spout poetry like that. And that definitely had been quite an eloquent speech for the dummy.

Both vampires left the alley quietly. They were deep in thought. How was the kid able to paint Tiearyu when a mere glimpse of him usually drove a person insane? This was a mystery they would never know the answer to with the artist now dead. The answer had died with the painter.

It was time to go see their master. Their gift to Tiearyu was left. Now they just needed to be around when he found it. And they knew he would. He always found them. It was as if the victims called out to him.

Van smirked. Tiearyu would know exactly who killed this innocent. Always seven wounds that seemed to bleed even after death. When Tiearyu found the boy they'd finish him. They'd get that unnatural being and send him to Hell where he belonged.

 

* * *

 

 

The man walked into the alley. His alley, he liked to think. He was always there when he needed to think. His mood was dark, as it often was, and all he wanted to do was sit on the fire escape steps and reminisce about happier days long passed. As soon as he smelled the putrid aroma coming from the alley, he knew his want was not going to happen that night. He should have turned around and left. Save himself the trouble of finding the source of the smell. But it was strange for so much of the stench to be coming from his alley.

The fumes wafted from the alley. Blood. Lots of blood. The blood smelled old and stale. At least a couple of hours had passed from it first being spilled. If he would have come through the area at his usual time, he might have witnessed something… unsettling. _Better investigate_ the man decided grimly. He hoped it was an animal. A small animal. But judging by the amount of blood he smelled, that very thought was ludicrous. At the very least he could pick up the dead animal and give it peace. A proper burial was what the thing needed.

Most importantly, it needed to get out of his spot. This was his sanctuary. It might not have seemed like a great place, he knew it hadn't been before he started hanging around. There had been muggings and street fights, drug deals all kinds of explicit activities, but not since he had decided this was his area. People stayed away. They could barely look at him without going insane; why the Hell would they want to be in the same alley as him? He liked the solitude this allowed him to have.

When he saw the being responsible for the bloody stench his plans changed. It was human. A young man. Now all he wanted to do was leave the side street. This wasn't as simple as an animal burial. This was bad. When a human went missing others of its kind undoubtedly noticed. Maybe he _should_ leave. If he just stayed clear of the alley for a few days the authorities would take care of the unsightly corpse. And his spot would be as good as new.

He started to turn, make his way out of the alley and made it all the way to the fire escape steps before something stopped him. Something he happened to catch out of the corner of his eyes. A silver frame. But the thing inside the frame is what had really held his attention. _Amazing._

A painting.

His eyes were riveted to the painting. It was a portrait of a man walking down a deserted sidewalk, hands deep in his pockets and his hair damp from rain that must have just passed. The man had a dour expression on his face as he shuffled down the walkway. The picture took place at night and colors were muted, except the man, who was conveniently walking under an illuminated lamp. His colors were almost too intense, too bright, as if he was radiating some kind of ethereal light. The heavenly aura surrounding this being was almost palpable.

The painting was flawless. For that reason it was also the most frightening thing he had ever seen. How was this possible? A portrait of a man like that shouldn't exist. He knew the painting shouldn't exist for he was the man in it. Nobody could paint him. Well, no human. And the especially couldn't have ever known that he was that lone figure in the flesh. How could an artist capture him so fully on canvas. This person had even realized that there was something more to him than meets the eye.

That glow around the figure in the portrait was unsettling. That was what had him so scared. It was as if this person knew _what_ he was. But he had absolutely no idea who had painted the picture.

He walked over to the painting and carefully picked it off of the ground. Searching for an artist's name was the next step. He had to figure out who painted it. They needed to be found and questioned. He glanced over at the dead guy. "Would it be too much to hope that you're not the painter?" He asked in a low weary voice. Unsurprisingly the corpse did not respond. He didn't expect it to. He wished it were that easy. But a part of him knew, without a doubt, that the reason this poor soul was dead was that painting. Even if the kid wasn't the artist, his pursuers would have killed the kid to try and lure him out. The people who were after him didn't care who they had to cut down in order to get to their main target.

There was no artist signature on the front of the painting, figured a shy painter would be the one who painted him. Who ever heard of an artist not signing their work? He flipped the painting over and scanned the back. There in the bottom right corner was scrawled what had to be the artist's name and the date. The writing was messy, reminded him of the scrawl of doctors. He quickly deciphered and read the artistic print and growled in frustration. The artist wasn't making this easy. The name on the back read _A. Bruel_. That initial. How was he supposed to know if it was the dead guy or not? There was nothing feminine or masculine about the letter A. "stupid artist," the guy muttered.

He then looked back to the kid. Yep, he was definitely dead. Hadn't moved since the man arrived. The lack of a heartbeat also pointed toward lack of being alive. He took a closer look at the kid. There were wounds exposed on his flesh that appeared to still be leaking blood. Then he realized what had happened to this kid. There were seven wounds. Bite marks. That still bled. _They_ were behind this. The kid had died for no reason. Because of the painting he had been carrying.

He was saddened by the loss of another life but wondered why the vampires thought that killing countless young men would affect him. He felt no emotional attachment to this prone figure and knew he would not grieve over the death of the nameless corpse. The thing that bothered him the most was that he didn't know the painter of the portrait. A. Bruel, could it _really_ be the kid? With his luck: probably.

He looked past the mangled flesh at the features of the body. Maybe something about the way he looked would clue him in on a name. Did the kid look like an A. Bruel? He decided it was impossible to tell. The kid had an average hair color, it was brown with a tuft of natural white that hung over his left eye. The length of it was rather long and he knew it would brush gently against the slender shoulders if the kid was standing.

If only those eyes were visible. That might have made this guessing game easier. After all it is said that eyes are the window to the soul. He didn't know who said it, but he thought they were close. They were more of a gateway to the mind. The man turned away from the corpse. There was no point in trying to seek answers from a dead person. He'd go to local galleries and art stores to see if any of them knew the painter. It would take a long time to get through all of those places, this was an artist's neighborhood, but he had nothing but time.

He decided he'd take the painting home with him. He was almost out of the alley when he heard a sound. It was quiet, but almost sounded like a moan or a cry. He looked for a person that could have made the noise and found none. The only person in the area was the dead kid. And obviously that wasn't...

The kid was shaking. Like seizure shaking.

He waited for the shakes to subside then quickly made his way to the prone figure. He set the painting down gently on the ground and scooped up the boy amazed that he wasn't dead. His heart beat was so faint it was almost inaudible, but he was alive. The boy was carried out of the alley. The painting lay on the ground left behind for now, but the man vowed he would return for it in order to figure out who painted it.

As he walked back to his apartment his mind raced. He still wanted to know who painted the picture. Right now though, the more pressing question was: who exactly was this kid? He had been attacked the same as all the other boys yet he was still alive. Van and Desoto never made mistakes like this. Furthermore, the kid had been dead when he entered the alley. He _knew_ the kid was dead.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when the kid shouted. He only said one word but it seemed to be said with all the remaining strength he possessed. His eyes flew open wide and terrified and the man had enough time to realize they were a deep blue before the word made him falter. "Help" the kid wailed pathetically before falling into a deep slumber again. He very nearly dropped the kid when this word was spoken. It wasn't spoken in English. It wasn't spoken in any language that humans should know or be able to speak. It had been said in the language of the messenger.

He brought the boy into his apartment and rushed him to the couch. _First thing's first, this boy's wounds need to be treated. Then when he's better I'll question him._

For two days he watched the boy. His condition never got any worse, but it didn't improve either. He would clean the wounds and disinfect them twice a day. He washed the kid every day too to keep him clean, in the hope that infection wouldn't set in. Bites were nasty. Especially human, _almost_ human bites.

On the third day the kid woke up. The man watched was he showed no signs pain or discomfort. There wasn't even a sign that he had been bitten. All the gashes and cuts had disappeared without a trace. _Interesting._ The kid would definitely need to be questioned.

 

* * *

 

 

Van and Desoto made their way to the forest on the outskirts of the city. They were heading toward the meeting place. Where they always went to meet their master. It was a limestone cave. A small one riddled with stalactites and stalagmites. They hated the cave. Why couldn't their master meet them in a house? Desoto didn't like the cave because he hit his head on the stalactites. Van hated that it was limestone. Spirits manifested easier with limestone and that made him uneasy. Even as a human he had been sensitive when it came to the paranormal. He had known the vampire who made him was unnatural as soon as he laid eyes on him. But when he tried to do his memory search on the much more powerful being… well let's just say it didn't work. At all. In fact it backfired and ended up knocking Van out. Desoto and he were both reaping the _benefits_ of his screw-up.

They stood in the cave. Backs to the entrance just waiting for their master to arrive. Van heard a whisper of movement, similar to the flutter of a dove and knew their master was there. Van turned around. And yanked Desoto around with him. The idiot had been too busy trying to catch a drop of water with his tongue as it dripped from the stalactite to even notice their master's presence.

The silky voice of the man filled the cave. "I trust you have good news," their master said, his usual sneer plastered on his face.

Van and Desoto shared a look. A look their master didn't like in the slightest. That look meant one thing. Failure.

Van swallowed, "Well, you see we ran into-

"I don't care what you ran into," the man boomed. He was trying to decide of these two imbeciles were worth his time. They couldn't even find one measly angel. "It's _simple_. Find. Me. Tiearyu." his words were stabs through their hearts, and they knew if they failed him again they probably wouldn't remain living.

"There was a new person involved. A boy," Van tried to save some face by explaining exactly what went wrong.

The master's eyes narrowed he didn't like where this was going. "Why haven't I been informed of him?"

"We thought him inconsequential. He's a nobody. But he was painting."

Here Desoto laughed choosing to join in on the conversation, "Yeah, little bitch was panitin' pictures of Tiearyu."

" _What_?" their master's tone shocked them. He never showed surprise over anything. "Painting pictures of Tiearyu?" that was impossible.

"Yeah, he was pretty good too. Tasted amazing." Desoto, always thinking about food… But Van had to admit the kid had been the best human he'd ever tasted. His blood almost tasted like their master's. Of course Van would need to taste their master's again to be sure but… he was almost positive that the kid's blood was similar. It was… unsettling. Why would the boy taste like _him_. Maybe Van should tell him that the kid was strange. Stranger than just being able to paint Tiearyu. The kid was a freak of nature.

The master's mind was whirling. This was most intriguing. A person who could paint one of them. There was no way both of his vamps were wrong. Desoto was an air head but Van… well, he at least had half a brain. There had to be something more to that kid. He didn't think that the kid was just able to paint them. There had to be something more to him. He made the decision that he was going to find this kid. And use him.

"Where is the boy now?" his voice was calculating and Van knew they'd be in trouble. Again. Normally the master wanted to dispose of anybody involving Tiearyu immediately. What were the chances he actually had wanted this kid alive? Judging from the gleam in his eye, pretty high. He didn't want to be the one to tell him the kid was... There was going to be Hell to pay if the master found out the kid was dead. Maybe Van could make up a cover story. They lost sight of the kid and do not know where he lives yet. Or they watched him board a train… probably to visit relatives somewhere. They didn't know when he's be back, but he took his cat with him and-

"Dead," Desoto declared happily. Well, at least now Van didn't have to say it. Little twit was like an excited little puppy. Van was waiting for Desoto to start humping their master's leg, or wet himself.

Van waited for the inevitable blowup. But instead the master sounded deep in thought. Pondering what they said. "You killed him? Are you sure he died?" the master asked slowly. That didn't add up with the theory he was forming about the boy. His vamps must be wrong. This child would not be dead if what they said so far was the truth.

Van was confused of course the kid was dead. They had watched him bleed out. Well okay, when they left his heart was still beating. But it had been slow, irregular. There's no way the brat was alive even ten minutes after they left him. It just wasn't possible.

"Absolutely," Van answered confidently. "We did the standard seven wound kill. No human can survive that." But now that he thought about it, there had never been anything about a murder on the news. Humans were nosey, and they seemed to care about others of their species. The kid couldn't have gone unnoticed. Surely he had a family, friends. There was no way that art shop owner hadn't realized the kid was missing.

The master looked deep in thought. _No human can survive_. But was the boy human? He had reason to believe otherwise. In fact, he knew otherwise. No human could paint an angel. They'd go insane at a mere glimpse of them. Humans were too impure to see the personification of all that's good. Even the angles forsaken by God could still rip a mortal's mind to shreds if they weren't careful. And that's exactly what Tiearyu was. Forsaken by God. That's why he needed to die.


	6. Who are You?

I looked around my surroundings in confusion. Where was I? Definitely not in my apartment. Too clean. And big. Definitely wasn't Tim's place either. If my apartment was a shoebox his was a matchbox. This place was way too big to ever be labeled with those words. It could have easily fit min and Tim's place inside it. And I was only in the living room. "Where am I?" I whispered in wonder, not really expecting any kind of answer.

"You are in my home." A voice answered silkily. It was then that I noticed the guy standing in the corner. How had I missed him? It was _the_ guy. I have a sinking suspicion that I'm dreaming. He spoke to me. Wait… I'm in his house. I pinched my arm and jumped when it actually hurt. Okay, so this wasn't a dream. I was actually in his apartment. I tried to surreptitiously glance at the guy, but it turned into full blown staring. He really was otherworldly. I couldn't tear my eyes away.

His eyebrow rose and he cleared his throat. I had been caught. I felt my face heat up. Slightly embarrasses, didn't even have a proper introduction without acting like a complete fool. The man just smiled. And I wanted to melt.

My curiosity got the best of me. And even though I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew his name I had to ask. "Who are you?"

Instead of giving his name the man smirked. "I believe it is I who deserves to knowwho _you_ are. After all, I've been helping a total stranger for the past four days." _Four days?_ No way. I was asleep for _four_ days.

Helping me? A complete stranger? Me. Right… I knew him, at least on appearance, but he didn't know me. Awkward. My blush grew stronger. I sucked in a deep breath. Once I told him my name I'd be taking the plunge. But, I want to know him. Badly. "Allen. My name's Allen." I said.

The man just stared at me as if waiting for me to continue. With what I had no idea. I told him my name. Was I supposed to tell him my horoscope, how much I weighed, the number of lightning bugs I had caught in my life? All those options seemed extremely unlikely.

The man rolled his eyes. I think he thinks I'm slow. "Is there a mast name that goes with that, _Allen?_ " he drawled in a sickly sweet voice. I'm under the impression that he just _might_ be making fun of me. But it seemed good natures. Nothing but humor and genuine curiosity sparkled in his expressive eyes.

I whispered my last name. "Bruel."

I watched as the man's eyes grew comically wide. Wish I knew why. Maybe he knew a Bruel. It wasn't a terribly common last name, but it's not unheard of. He shook his head, as if clearing away his current thoughts and fixed that gaze upon me again. His eyes were beautiful. He was beautiful.

Kindness radiated from his words. "Well, Allen, haw are you feeling?" You know I had thought this man was cool as a cucumber. Pictured him to be the brooding type with how often he was alone in that alley way, but he was so _kind_. To a total stranger. He could have left me in that alley. But I'm alive and kicking. I owe him so much more than that picture.

Crap… the picture. I have no clue where it is anymore.

"I have some questions I want to ask you, but if you're not feeling up to it right now I can wait until you're ready." My face paled. The very thought of questions made me feel extremely nauseous. The last bout of _questions_ didn't go too well for me. I shuddered. This guy, he wasn't like the other people I'd be fine. But all the same I really don't think I'm ready for having an interrogation. I just woke up.

"Oh, and the name's Cephi, by the way." The man offered a warm smile and a hand and I found myself shaking the hand without a second thought. It was warm and strong. I thought his name was Tiearyu. Well whatever his name was, mere contact with him put me at ease.

I bit my lip. I wanted to please this man but the questions had to wait. "Um. Could I get a rain check on the questions? I could come back tomorrow. If that's okay. I'm just really tired right now." And it was true. I stifled a yawn. Yup after all the resting I did over the last four days, sleep sounded good…

The man gave me a gentle smile. And I absolutely wanted to melt. "that's not a problem. You can come back sometime tomorrow. I will make sure I am here when you decide to drop by."

It's official… I absolutely love him. Anybody who lets me sleep before an interrogation is okay in my book. "Thank you." I chirped happily.

I said a hurried goodbye, focused on getting home as soon as possible and walked out the front door. It took me about 2.51 seconds too long to realize that I had absolutely no idea where I was. I turned around, feeling like a complete idiot and timidly rapped on the door I just exited. It was immediately answered by a very amused looking Cephi. He cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"Uh." I started, ever the eloquent intellectualist. "Could you possibly show me how to get to my house from here? I have no clue where I am," I finished sheepishly raking a hand through my hair.

The man laughed and showed me how to get to Tim's shop.

 

* * *

 

 

Cephi was amazed. Never before had he been so smitten with a human. It just simply didn't happen. Never before had a human been able to look at him without going insane.

And that boy had painted him. It was a damn good job too.

There was something that bothered him though. Something not quite right about the kid.

He had been passed out for four days. Muttering incoherently in more than one language… English yes, but Messenger, humans couldn't speak that. But the kid had spoken it with ease. In his fitful resting.

On top of that, the extensive wounds just disappeared. They had been there one night when Cephi went to bed, and the next morning when he went to check on the boy, it was as if he was never hurt. As if he hadn't gone through an ordeal that almost ended his life.

Cephi couldn't wait to as the kid questions about that night. About himself. For many reasons, Cephi wanted to know more about the creature that had been asleep on his couch for the last couple days. He wanted to know what kind of human could speak Messenger. What kind of human could paint a _monster_ like him. What kind of human could look so endearingly up at him, with those big innocent eyes. The boy was out of this world gorgeous. At least that's what Cephi thought. Others might not be so inclined to agree, but there was a certain light about the child that had Cephi wanting to stay near him. And he didn't think he was imagining the blush he saw coloring Allen's face. If that was any indication, the boy at least liked what he saw. Cephi would have to charm him. He had been without any type of companion for so long. This kid would fill the need he didn't even know he had until laying eyed on the lad.

Yes, he would figure this young man out. And hopefully gain a _friend_ , or better yet lover out of the deal.


	7. Can Dead Guys Paint?

I painted. Meeting the man, Cephi, had supercharged my creativity juices. I had so many ideas. All involving that man and some paint, and maybe a few other items that were equally messy… Yeah. Uh, back to the painting.

It was _colorful_. I wanted to capture the warmth of the individual this time. Honestly the picture looked downright girly. I'm sure somebody would like it. It was probably an acquired _taste_. A weird piece of art, but still unmistakably _good_. And beautiful. Little surprise with the subject matter.

After the painting was dry, I wrapped it up and headed to Tim's.

The bell jingled as I slowly pushed the door open.

"Where in the fuckin' seven layers of Hell have you been yeh dick of an _asshole_?" Tim shouted at me. I paled. _Hate_ those words. And his other customers didn't appreciate them much either. They gave an offended squawk and left the art store with their nose sticking high in the air.

"I think you just lost yourself a customer," I said trying to get his angry gaze to focus on something else.

"Fuck 'em." Well, it was worth a try.

His smoldering eyes focused on me and I knew this wouldn't be as enjoyable as my usual visits were to the shop. "Let's hear it. Where were you? You said five days ago that you would be back tomorrow. _Five days!_ " He crossed his arms waiting for the answer he expected me to give him.

I took a large breath and barreled through the events that kept me away for the past couple of days leaving out the stuff about the blood drinkers. As far as Tim was concerned, I was assaulted by those two "art dealers" in an alley. When I was done recounting the tale Tim was staring at me with his mouth agape.

"You know, If you didn't want to tell me what happened it would have been alright, but making up stories, Allen. That's just not like you." Tim was looking at me with a disappointed frown on his face.

What? He really didn't believe me… "Why don't you believe me?" I almost died. I was hurt, and I think it showed in my voice. This man was like a brother to me. He _had_ to believe me.

To my dismay a smile cracked the angry façade. "I'm just messin' with yea you worry wart. C'mere." He grabbed my arm and yanked me into a hug.

"Missed yeh little buddy. Don't you ever do somethin' like that again. You hear?"

"Aye, aye captain." I mock saluted him.

"So what's this new painting yeh got?" Tim asked rubbing his greedy hands together and making the switch from concerned friend to business man. I rolled my eyes. He was a goof, plain and simple.

 

* * *

 

 

"Van, I'm hungry," the vampire whined putting on a very undignified pouty face. "How much longer 'til we eat?"

How long until you act your age?" the older vampire asked. Why was his brother such a disappointment? They were supposed to be twins and Van hated to think that Desoto was in anyway a reflection of himself.

"I'm 337 years old, you better _hope_ I don't start acting my age. I'm hungry." He repeated.

Van sighed in defeat. He knew there was no winning such a battle. They would have to go hunting tonight. He had to admit, he was ravenous, but there were more pressing matters to think about. The most pressing one: _where the hell was the body?_

There was no way the kid could have survived. There had been no body in the alley when they went back to check on it, but the painting had still been there. They had snagged that. Still, there had been no mention of the body on the news or in the papers. It was as if the kid had gotten up and walked away. And Van was starting to think that's exactly what had happened.

But if that scrawny little brat lived after their treatment, did that mean they were losing their touch? Van dismissed the notion immediately. It couldn't mean that. They had taken enough blood to down somebody twice that kid's size. There must have been something genetically wrong with the kid. That was the only reasonable explanation. Tiearyu didn't give a damn what happened to any of these boys, so there was no way he would have disposed of the body. No the kid must have been alive. But how were they going to prove it?

"..an, Van… Hey, yo Van, I'm talikn' to yah," Desoto yelled trying to get his brother's attention. He knew his brother was upset about the kid. He'd be upset too if he weren't so hungry. But… "If it bothers you so much, why don't we go to the shop the kid brought all his pictures to? That way we'll be able to see that he's dead. It's pretty hard to make new paintings when you're dead."

Every once in a while Desoto actually came up with a decent idea. This must have been one of those times. Van was impressed. _Okay, we'll go visit that art shop. What is it called?_

"Assorted Art from Around the Block." Desoto chimed in trying to be helpful.

A growl came from his brother. "How many times do I have to tell you," he seethed. "Stay. Out. Of. My. Fucking. Head." He crossed his arms and seemed to pout acting every bit like a petulant child. "Let's go to the dumb store before it closes." He led the way to the art store where they had first seen the pictures of Tiearyu.

 

* * *

 

 

Tim was having a slow night. There were only three customers in his shop. _Three_. And they weren't buying anything. Allen was also on his shit list at the moment. After being away for almost a week he showed up with one measly painting. And it was a small painting. Even with the painting's high quality and the subject's growing popularity, Tim felt like he should be getting more for his money. He knew Allen had been attacked and was recovering, but what better way to heal than some art therapy? He reasoned that all Allen could have done when hurt that bad was paint. There should have been more than just that one small dinky, incredibly realistic painting.

The shop bell rang letting Tim know that his door had been opened. He heaved a sigh resting his arms on his sales desk, one of these days he was going to rip that annoyingly happy bell down and replace it with a bucket of tar, or maybe a cowbell. Yeah, definitely a cowbell. He could never get annoyed with a cowbell.

He plastered a fake grin on his face and looked up to great his customer with one of his famous one-liners. Who he saw made him want to cringe, close the shop and hide under his sales desk like the big strong man he was. Those two guys were standing before him, tall and discomforting as ever.

Tim had to tread carefully with these two. They tried to kill his friend. Why were they not in jail? "Hey guys," he said feigning joviality. "Are yeh gonna buy somethin' tonight, or just creep out my customers?" He tried to laugh, but it came out shrill and taut like the freaking bell that chimed above his door. He closed his mouth and swallowed. Why was his throat so dry all of a sudden? Well, at least there was a desk in between him and them.

The guys just glared at him. "So… creepin' out the customers it is… Good choice." He put a grin on his face that was clearly forced and fake.

One of the men moved closer to him a glare upon his face. "Where are those pictures?" He growled.

Tim scratched the back of his head nervously. "Um… what pictures would those be exactly? I got…"

The man lunged over his desk and grabbed him, pulling him by the collar of his shirt until he was an inch away from the other's face. "You know which ones I'm talking about," he seethed through clenched teeth. He threw the heavy man to the ground.

Tim stared up at the man in horror. No way was this guy for real. Sure he was ripped, but Tim had a good one fifty, maybe even two hundred pounds on the guy. He couldn't possibly lift a behemoth like Tim and _throw_ him on top of that.

Still frightened from the rough treatment Tim lifted a shaky finger and pointed. Pointed to his newest picture, of a certain man with dark hair and no eyes. He was so distraught he didn't even think of the danger he was putting the painter into by revealing the new art.

The two men dashed over to the painting staring at it with wide eyes.

"Van, can dead guys paint?" he heard one ask the guy who had thrown him to the ground.

The other roared in frustration and punched a marble statue as he strode out of the shop, his brother right on his heels.

Tim shakily picked himself off of the floor. " _Holey_ _fuck_." He hissed. He walked over to the statue. It had literally exploded when the guy punched it. If he could do this to marble… What was going to happen to Allen? Flesh and bones weren't that hard.

"Oh, God. I lead them right to you." Tim raked his hands through his hair. If Allen lived through the last ordeal, he could make it through another run-in with the duo. And if not, Tim didn't think he'd be able to live with himself.

 

* * *

 

 

"So, he's alive you say, interesting," The master said. Van was confused by the reaction. He was expecting anger, or morbid curiosity. What he got was a sentence. A calmly stated sentence. Almost as if he…

"You _knew?_ " Van accused almost sounding offended.

"Of course I knew you imbecile!" he boomed. Now there was the master Van was familiar with. He heard chuckling next to him. Desoto obviously found this highly amusing. "How could I not know? With Tiearyu being what he is. The was no way that kid was human."

"But what could he be?" Van asked curious to see If the master knew that answer as well.

"He's not a vampire," Desoto stated happily.

Van glared at him.

"Of course he's not a vampire," the master agreed exasperatedly. "I have a theory, but I want to be absolutely sure. If I'm right about what he is we'll be able to use him to get that fucking angel."

Van liked the sound of that. And maybe when the master was done with the kid he'd let Van play with him again.

All business, Van asked, "What do you need us to do?"

Here his master smiled. A wickedly sweet thing that made Van's skin crawl. "Absolutely nothing."

That wasn't a good sign. If they weren't useful, they'd be dead. Those were the terms of their servitude. Stupid terms, but they had no other choice.

"I'm going to find this kid myself." The man giggled maniacally. "We're going to become such good _friends_."

And with that their master was gone, leaving them in that cave. Alive. For now…


	8. Who's the Angel?

* * *

"Okay, kid, first thing's first," Cephi began, "What the hell were you doing in an alley that late at night?"

Well, nothing like jumping right into things. I had gone to find this man at his home, and he insisted on accompanying me to my apartment to ask the questions he had promised the day before. I brushed off the harsh phrasing and decided to merely focus on answering the questions as quickly and accurately as possible. Then maybe we could do more desirable thing. Like eat. I was going to cook us dinner.

I mumbled out a reply trying to keep my traitorous face from flushing.

"Speak up, I can't hear you," Cephi said a hint of humor not going unnoticed. I took a deep breath, prepared to be embarrassed.

"I said, I was looking for you," Oh God I can't believe I said that out loud. I turned my head away from him too embarrassed to meet his powerful gaze. I half expected him to get up and leave, but to my surprise he reached out a hand and gently guided me so that I was once again looking at him. I scrunched up my eyes tightly. That would show him.

"And why, praytell, would you be looking for me?" My eyes shot open to stare at him. His hand was still resting on my face and he seemed way too amused with the situation. He looked into my eyes, probably searching for an answer.

I had the urge to reach up and touch his hand. To… _remove_ it from my face. But once my hand was placed on top of his, it was as if all thoughts left my brain.

I didn't want to move my hand. I didn't want him to let go. I decided I'd remove the hand from my face, but not let it go. So there we sat, not talking, holding hands in the middle of my kitchen. I expected him to pull his hand away, but he just let it rest there, under mine.

Guess I'm explaining things like this, "Well," I tried my hardest to collect my thoughts into a story that made sense and began to tell the man why I had been looking for him.

"Well, I guess I wanted to thank you, and all. You see, you're the reason I started painting again. I was looking into an alley the first time I saw you… and from there well, it just kind of escalated."

Cephi pulled his hand back from mine and ran it along the side of his jaw looking thoughtful. His eyes almost seemed to glaze over and he looked lost to the world. "The painting from the alley was for me wasn't it?"

"Yes. I… I came to give it to you. Was hoping you'd be in the alley w-when I got attacked..." God was this hard to talk about. "Attacked by v-vampires." Probably should have left that last bit off there.

 

* * *

 

 

 _"Vampires?"_ This kid was really something. Another thing he shouldn't know about.

"What you don't believe in them?" he asked sounding slightly offended. Cute. Cephi would have to remember to get him riled up more often.

"I'm just surprised you do," he told Allen quickly.

To his amusement the kid shot back, "Kind of hard not to when you were their late night snack." He folded his arms over his chest looking at Cephi crossly.

That's right. So the kid definitely believed in them. Well maybe he believed in other things too. Only one way to know for sure. "Do you believe in angels too?" He asked quietly.

The kid scoffed, "Angels? Don't be ridiculous. No, of course not."

 _Oh, well, it was worth a shot._ Maybe with enough time Cephi would be able to make a believer out of him. But the kid just didn't know where to stop. "Although, I do find the tales of angels like Gabriel and Lucifer _interesting_. Especially the ones about Lucifer."

That was going too far. Even if the kid didn't know what he was… That was one thing Cephi just couldn't let go. _Stories_. He _knew_ Gabriel. He _knew_ Lucifer. Those _stories_ were real. "Oh, you like _stories_ of angels, do you?" Cephi asked somewhat bitterly. "Well I've got one for you."

Allen opened his mouth to object. Now was not the time for stories. But Cephi barreled right over his feeble attempts to stop the tale.

"There was an angel; some say the most beautiful out of all the heavenly beings with flaxen hair and the softest downy wings any had ever felt. He was truly a sight to behold." The man growled out the next part and Allen was glad he was no longer holding the man's hand. He feared it would have been crushed from how tightly he was clenching it. "It only made sense that through this angel the Father would make a horrible mistake that lead to the triumph of evil and a failing of good.

"Now, I'm not saying that heaven was overthrown or anything ridiculous like that. This happened on a smaller, some would say inconsequential scale, but it destroyed the lives of the good that it did affect, while the evil got away unharmed. This beautiful angel was blamed for an act of treachery by one of his kin. They said he killed another angel, but that angel had been his best friend. He would have _never_ hurt him." Cephi said this with such emotion that Allen believed this tale to be personal. But that was impossible.

"As was the custom, the angel was sentenced to fall. Fall down to this horrible rock. And the one in charge of making sure he couldn't come back was the evil angel. Usually, the wings are removed cleanly from an angel's back it doesn't hurt, but they feel empty when it's over, like a part of them is missing. It is said to be a fate worse than death. But what they did to this angel. I think it was worse."

In spite of himself Allen found himself genuinely curious in knowing what happened to this angel. He asked in a hushed whisper, "What'd they do to him?"

"The sick bastard broke them with his bare hands. The pain was the most intense thing he had ever felt in his life and the noise of the delicate bones snapping sickened him just as much. His legs buckled under the immense pain. And as he was there vulnerable on the ground he was pushed. He fell to earth where he still lives today drowning in self pity and despair. Trying to think if there is any way to convince the creator that she made a mistake."

Allen's ears perked. "Wait. She?"

"Yes. God's a woman." He stated simply, as if it were common knowledge. "Anyway, he never did figure out a way to get back to heaven. So, resigning himself to his fate he traversed the planet in search of anyone that could help him. Nobody even noticed him. Those that did were shortly driven insane. Or worse, wanted to kill him." Predicting the question that Allen was poised and ready to ask Cephi interrupted his tale to say, "Plenty of people want to kill an angel. Most of them supernaturals that either hate them for being too good or the _righteous_ ones that want to off the fallens, for daring to stray from the path of God. You can see why this angel has had it rough?"

Allen shook his head.

"Since his fall all those many years ago he has lead an extremely lonely existence. But he hasn't given up hope, and some newfound light in his life might be just what he needs to stop feeling sorry for himself." Cephi finished his story and just sat there waiting for some kind of reaction from the boy. _Say something,_ he thought _anything_.

 

* * *

 

 

To say I was speechless after this story was an understatement. What do you say after such a depressing story? I was really impressed that he knew it by heart.

I looked over to Cephi to see him slumped forward in his chair hands on his face. He looked as if the story had ripped him a new one, and I wondered briefly if he was crying. Then a sentence came from out of his mouth that was so passionate my heart ached. "If she found it in her heart to offer forgiveness to _Lucifer_ why couldn't she forgive _him_?"

I wasn't sure if I believed him. I mean, this was a story. A very depressing story, but still a story. But there was no way I was sharing my thought with him while he was in such a fragile emotional state. I got up from my seat and walked over to him, enveloping him in a hug.

He clutched at my shirt like a lifeline. Like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity. I held him, trying my best to comfort him as he sobbed into my shirt.

Then abruptly he stopped. "Sorry about that," he sniffled.

"You don't have to apologies for that. The story obviously means a great deal to you." I answered. If I were talking about the time a bully wrecked my favorite art project, I'd get teary too.

"So who's the angel you're talking about?" I just had to ask. The question had been smoldering for a while and I was afraid if I didn't ask it would turn into a full blown fire.

Cephi stood up and headed for the door. He opened it and right when it was about to shut said, "Cephirial."

Guess dinner was a no go then…


	9. Theophilus

I woke up around noon and decided it was time to once again spend some quality time in front of my easel. And of course I was painting another picture of Cephi with very muted colors.

As I painted I couldn't stop thinking about the story the man had told me the other day. He had just seemed so angry so victimized by the tale, as if he had been the one to experience the pain and suffering of the angel. _Almost as if he were an angel._ I quickly dismissed that idea.

It was absurd. Angels couldn't be real. If they were real that meant fairies and witches and ghosts and werewolves and vampires… uh… _right._

Maybe there was more to the story than I thought. I mean, I knew vampires were real. Was it such a stretch to believe in angels? I tried to imagine it. And couldn't so clearly the answer was: yes.

I finished slopping the paint on my canvas and took a step back to look at my work.

It was different in style than a lot of my previous pictures. Obviously the subject remained unchanged. Where the other paintings were thinly applied with acrylic, this one was very much raised. There was a lot of paint on the little canvas. A _lot_ of paint.

It was Cephi hunched over in pain, his eyes darkened by thick shadows. I still had an aversion to drawing his eyes, I didn't want to screw them up. They were too beautiful. A beautiful pair of wings sprouted from his back. I know I painted mangled wings before, but these were far from mangled. They were intact and a creamy white with a golden glow of light on them, either from the setting sun or a blazing fire. Nothing was seen of the background that gave a clue to the lights origin. Actually, nothing was seen of the background at all. The whole picture was just the angel. And I had to admit, the wings looked so _natural_ on Cephi, so much like they belonged on the man that I really wondered, _really_ wondered if Cephi had told me a true story. If he, in fact, was the angel he spoke of and had chosen to tell me about his past. I mean his name was Cephi. The angel's was Cephirial. It wasn't much of a stretch.

And then I felt like a jerk. If the story was true and I had so blatantly told him I didn't believe in angels… well he probably regretted spilling his guts to me. Still, the only way to know for sure if he was the angel in the tale was to ask him.

Well, I could probably go on the internet and do an extensive search on everything dealing with angels and God and all that jazz. But, I'd rather go straight to the source and risk asking a stupid question than research in private and have the man find out about it later. And if I was being completely honest with myself, I really just wanted an excuse to see the guy again. Maybe this time we'd actually get to eat dinner together. Maybe watch a movie… or something.

I decided I'd stop by Cephi's place after taking my painting to Tim's. And with any luck the man would be in his apartment.

I went over to look at my painting. Yup, still wet. Probably take at least an hour for the paint to dry. Why did I put it on so thick? Oh yeah, it looked good.

Wanting to make sure it was going to be dry as fast as possible, I went into my room and pulled out my rotating fan from under my bed and positioned it in front of the easel. Plugging it in was the next step, and then I turned it on.

While it was drying I decided I might as well take a nap. That way I might be able to stay longer at Cephi's. Hunkering down on my armchair, I slept.

I woke up and pulled out my phone. Two hours had passed. Glancing over at the picture proved that it was finally dry. I put my fan away and left my apartment, painting in hand.

I had the painting out in front of me on the way to Tim's store, still scrutinizing it. For some unexplainable reason I really liked it. Considered keeping it. If I didn't need money so bad, there was no way I'd ever _dream_ of selling it.

It was in the middle of this intense scrutiny that I ran into someone and lost my grip on the painting. I made a hasty grab for it, but the person I ran into was quicker. He grabbed the piece and turned it around. Giving it I judgmental look over. I sucked in a breath and shoved my hands in my pockets waiting for the guy to give some kind of feedback. It was obvious he wanted to say something about the piece. No one looked at something _that_ long and said nothing about it.

While the guy was busy scrutinizing my painting, I was looking at him. No matter how much I loathed the thought, because it was just so cliché, the man looked like a piece of art. Like _real_ art. He was the personification of Michelangelo's _David_ , save the awkward proportions that were used on the statue. And obviously the man was clothed. Usually people don't walk around cities naked. Towns, yes, but cities _never._ He was smartly dressed in what had to be the latest fashion. His hair was an almost platinum blonde and, of course, curly and his face had a light dusting of freckles.

This man was pure sin. But I still found myself preferring Cephi's ethereal appearance over this guy. His eyes found their way to mine and I was unable to breathe. The man had _yellow_ eyes. Like buttercup yellow.

"It's a rather striking likeness," the man spoke and I found myself able to breathe again, thank God. Jesus, even his speech was classy. And did I hear the hint of an accent?

"Wha?" I said intelligently.

"The painting," the man explained, "it looks just like him."

My heart jumped to my throat. This guy knew Cephi. In my experience when people knew him, bad things happened. So I decided it was the perfect time to act like I had no clue what he was talking about. "Who?"

"Oh, come on kid, don't play dumb, it's not cute," the guy huffed still seemingly looking at the painting in his clutches.

I gave him my best "I don't know what you're talking about" look.

The man rolled his eyes clearly not buying my clueless act, "Tiearyu."

The panicked look in my eyes made the man laugh. I was immediately struck by how much I like the sound. I wondered if it was possible to make Cephi laugh. I know it happened once, quickly when I asked him a stupid question, but I wanted to hear it more. I was so much more familiar with that sardonic chuckle of his.

"I see you have met others whom know Tiearyu," his eyes sparkled, "ghastly sorts. I'm not like them. I'm much more... sophisticated."

He reached his hand out around the painting, offering it to me to shake. "My name's Theo. I'm an old _acquaintance_ of Tiearyu's."

I reached out my hand and accepted the greeting. The man's hand's were surprisingly cold. "It's nice to meet you," I said, all politeness. I would be as polite as a _princess_ as long as he had my painting in his arms.

The man dropped his hand and smirked at me. A chill ran down my spine. For how kind the man spoke, that smirk told of a very different person. It spoke of a man who wasn't afraid to manipulate and step on those around him. But just as quickly as it appeared it was gone and I wondered if I hadn't made up such a malicious facial expression.

The painting was thrust back into my arms and Theo walked past me.

I watched as he walked away.

"Oh," the man threw over his shoulder, "be a _dear_ and tell Tiearyu that Theophilus said 'hello.'" Then the man ambled down the street and out of sight.

"That was weird," I muttered to myself before walking into Tim's. It was time to see how much this painting was worth.


	10. A Common Name

After selling my latest painting I said my goodbyes to Tim and made my way toward Cephi's apartment. On the forefront of my list of things to do was actually finding some way to have dinner with him, since obviously last time didn't go so well. Next was clarifying a couple hundred things with the enigmatic man. I had figured out that Tiearyu _had_ to be another name for Cephi. But I wanted to hear the confirmation from his mouth. And I thought I deserved to know why most of the people who called him Tiearyu seemed to want to kill him. Since they also attempted to kill me I'm pretty sure it is in my rights to be curious. I wanted to know why he gave me the name Cephi rather than Tiearyu when introducing himself to me. Everyone seemed to call him Tiearyu. And last but not least I wanted to know if Cephi was his full name, because I'd bet my left ear that it wasn't. I think his name's Cephirial.

I think he thinks he's an angel. And I want to believe he's telling the truth. But, I mean it's crazy, right. I didn't believe in vampires until I was sucked dry and left for dead in an alley and he had offered me nothing but his words to attest for the existence of angels.

How much were his words worth?

I stood outside his front door. There were so many questions and doubts running through my mind. I felt like I was about to drown on them, or totally psych myself out and go home. I shook my head, trying to clear my mind and steel my nerves. I _had_ to do this.

I timidly knocked on the door and waited. I heard the fumbling of a chain lock and the door opened about four inches. Cephi peered out at me, a scowl marring his handsome features. Guess he was home... "What do you want," he asked non-too-friendly.

"I," I was a little put off by his apparent attitude. He must have woken up on the wrong side of the universe this morning, 'cause let's face it the bed just isn't big enough to cause an attitude problem like that. "I wanted to talk to you," I stated lamely.

His eyes adopted a slightly kinder look and he gave me a calculating glance. "I have nothing to say to you unless you're willing to admit that angels might be real. You believe in vampires, why not believe in something else that shouldn't exist?"

I hesitated with my answer. I knew he was paying close attention to me and didn't want to open my mouth only to insert my foot. His stare was intense and i caved under the pressure of the gaze, averting my gaze. My hands suddenly were the most interesting thing in the world and I realized that there was still some paint on them from earlier. So apparently I know how to paint, but not wash myself? Stalling... I know, but I really didn't know how to answer him. I didn't believe him but I didn't _not_ believe him.

Apparently my silence was all the answer he needed. His gaze hardened, "That's what I thought," and he started to close the door.

"Wait," I gasped frantically, right before the door closed all the way. All I saw fo him now was one steely eye glaring daggers at me. I tried scrunching my face into an honest expression and admitted, "I _want_ to believe you." I looked into his eye, imploring him to believe my words. And I realized that's all he wanted from me.

There was a sigh and then the door was opened. He beckoned me into his not so humble abode. It was still as I remembered it. Nicer than my place, bigger than my place, classier than my place, and a whole bunch more things than my place that I can't think of right now. The layout, for all it's fanciness was pretty standard. A kitchen and dining area living room thing was where we currently were. I remembered the couch fondly from last visit. that thing was pretty comfy. There was a hallway halfway back the wall on the right hand side that I'm assuming lead to a bathroom bedroom and maybe an office or spare bedroom.

Cephi closed the door behind me and went to lean on his counter top. Arms crossed over his chest and looking _very_ imposing he asked, "So, what questions do you have?"

"I..." I was interrupted by the loud protest of my stomach and my face flushed a beet red. I glared at my stomach silently telling it to stifle itself.

There was a humorous snort and the intimidating facade Cephi put up vanished. "Those questions must be pretty important if you couldn't even remember to feed yourself before coming here," his jibes were good-natured and made my heart soared at the expression that was fixed on me. Amusement and fondness. Those were good emotions.

I realized that a reply might have been expected and fumbled awkwardly for words, any words, "Uh...yeah." Ahh, my ever eloquent reply.

The man just shook his head in disbelief. "Hey, do you like spaghetti?"

"Huh?"

"I'm asking if you like spaghetti," his eyes danced with amusement, "to be completely honest, I haven't eaten yet either." There was a cheesey grin plastered on his face. I really liked the expression on his face. Instead of blindingly handsome he actually looked a tad bit goofy. The grin made him seem like a real person. Said grin became a smirk as i realized I had been caught staring at him once again.

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest, and looked away giving a slight nod to my head.

There was a small chuckle and then Cephi was rummaging through his pantry and cabinets. Probably looking for the ingredients needed for the food.

Soon the water was boiling and food was being cooked. Okay Allen, time to man up and ask a question.

"Cephi?"

The man turned away from the sauce he was stirring (it was homemade!) and quirked an eyebrow up in question.

"Who is Tiearyu?" I asked cautiously, testing the waters. for all I knew this could be a touchy subject.

His facial features darkened and his response grim, "Where'd you hear that name?"

I answered just as quietly, just as serious, "The night I was attacked. They kept asking who Tiearyu was."

There was a sigh and he set his spoon down across the top of the sauce pan. He turned to face me, hands resting behind him on the counter. "Remember the angel I told you about?" I nodded, resisting the temptation to roll my eyes. How could I forget? He was the reason that Cephi skipped out on dinner with me. "When he fell to earth he felt it unwise to keep his God-given name for fear that it was too different a name. He wanted his name to go unnoticed in a crowd."

I shot him a disbelieving look, "So he picked _Tiearyu_? Oh, I mean of _course_ he picked Tiearyu because that's such a _common_ name. Ranked right up there with James and Ryan. I must have had _at least_ two of them in my class at school."

The man rolled his eyes. I noticed with some satisfaction that he was trying and failing to hide a smile. He muttered a quick, "Shut up," and turned back to his cooking.

We continued the playful banter until the meal was ready and then sat dow to enjoy it together. And when I say enjoy, boy did I ever mean it. this was without a doubt the best spaghetti I had ever tasted. And it was all because of that homemade sauce of his. I asked what was in it but all he did was wink and say it was a secret.

"Oh my God, this tastes so _good_ ," I moaned closing my eyes in rapture. Pure bliss, that's what it was. heavenly food. I was distinctly aware of the clattering of silverware from the man I was dining with and opened my eyes to see Cephi staring at me, eyes as big as saucers. He had dropped his fork, and it was currently sinking into the massive amounts of noodles and sauce on his plate.

"What?" I asked, doing my best to give him a disapproving look. I mean, who just drops their silverware into their food and lets it to drown like that?

He cleared his throat looking a bit flushed, "Come _on._ There's no way you didn't do that on purpose," he rasped accusingly. I wonder if he needs water.

"Do what?"

"Never mind," he muttered and went back to eating his food. To very intently eating his food.

Deciding now was the perfect time to ask another question I struck, "So, are you Cephirial then?"

He inhaled sharply and started coughing on the food that was in his mouth looking at me with something akin to shock on his face. "Why would you ask that?"

I took a bite of my food, taking my time with the answer. "Well, you're name's Cephi. Not too much of a stretch from Cephi to _Cephirial_." Then I muttered, "I may act it sometimes, but I'm not an idiot."

The guy scooted his chair closer to mine and looked me straight in the eyes, the most earnest of expressions gracing his features. "Yes. I am Cephirial," the admission was little more than a whisper, but held such weight. Such sincerity. If I didn't believe what he said now I'd seem like a total jerk.

"Oh, okay then, " I smiled flippantly taking another bite of my spaghetti slurping one of the noodles up obnoxiously. He was so close to me I could feel his body heat. His leg was lightly brushing mine, an innocent gesture that had my nerves on fire. I was becoming hyper aware of just how close we were.

I became even more aware when a gentle hand cupped my face.

"Allen," he breathed. I felt the tickle of his warm breath tickle my face like the kisses of butterflies. He was uncomfortable close. I liked it. My heart was hammering harder in my chest the longer we sat there. "You have some sauce on your face."

And, I will be the first to say, that should not have sounded so... sexy. A shiver went down my spine and my face was uncomfortably hot. Not wanting to show how much he was affecting me, I played it cool, "Really, I do?" I fumbled for my napkin. But before I could even bring it up to my face Cephi took matters into his own hands.

He leaned in close and stuck out his tongue, lapping gently at the corner of my mouth with the soft muscle. As much as I wanted to think that meant something, I wasn't convinced it was more than an overly friendly person trying to save som money on napkins.

My brow wrinkled in confusion and I pushed him gently away lamenting the loss of closeness. "Why did you do that?"

"Well obviously I was trying to come on to you," he griped. Then muttered under his breath, "apparently not very successfully though."

"Huh?" I squeaked.

"You can hardly expect me to sit and be a good little _angel_ when you're eating like _that_. It was hard enough waiting _this_ long to do something," Cephi explained.

"What?" I asked letting the double entendre slide.

"I _like_ you Allen," he yelled exasperatedly throwing his hands into the air as if he were giving up. He began to pace the length of his kitchen. And I sat there watching as he went back and forth. Back and forth.

Back

and

"Oh..." I answered, a silly little smile threatening to overtake my confusion.

He liked me.

Cephi stopped his pacing, "Oh? _Oh_? Is that all you have to say?" Well, this could have gone better. He sounded really frustrated. I scrambled to fix the damage I caused with my weak response.

"Well no," I laughed awkwardly rubbing my neck. "I thought it was kind of obvious how I felt about you. I mean, I've only painted like _twenty-five_ pictures of you." There were actually probably more pictures than that. I didn't actually keep track.

I waited for him to say something and was surprised when I was enveloped in warmth.

His arms were around me bringing me in close to the warmth that was his body. I was so warm, so comfortable in that embrace. And then his soft lips met mine.

It was a short kiss. nothing more than a few nips. But each peck made my lips tingle and sent my body into a frenzy. I couldn't think past the dull realization that it took two to tango and maybe I should respond to his gentle touch. I wrapped my arms around his neck. Laced my fingers through his hair. And, of course, returned the kiss with gusto.

We broke apart smiling like a couple of idiots.

He leaned down, resting his forehead against mine looking in my eyes with an unreadable expression. I returned his gaze, unwilling to look anywhere else. And as I was looking at him, as luck would have it, I remembered our earlier conversation.

I gave him a look that clearly screamed 'you're kidding me' and mirrored it with a disbelieving tone, "Tiearyu?"

Cephi just looked at me in question.

So I elaborated, _"_ You think _Tiearyu_ is a common name?"

There was a husky whisper of, "shut up."

And I was only too happy to oblige as he pulled me into a searing kiss.


	11. What's Going On?

Over the next couple of weeks my life slowly fell into a routine. I would wake up paint and paint a picture of Cephi. Then it was off to Tim's to earn some money. And finally, I would end up at Cephi's house. We hung out constantly and I really enjoyed being in the man's company. And he clearly enjoyed mine too. So it only makes sense that when I was finally nice and comfortable with how our relationship was progressing that something would happen to change that.

Cephi greeted me with a kiss as I walked through the front door of his house. It was deep and searing, leaving me gasping for breath and wanting more. His hand lingered on the small of my back and I found myself being led toward his couch.

"Would you like to watch a movie?" he asked.

I could think of a million things I'd rather do on that couch right now but still I nodded my head.

After extensively scrutinizing every DVD he owned I finally decided I wanted to watch a movie with angels in it. Cephi strongly refused to watch _Angels In the Outfield_ or _All Dogs Go to Heaven_ , why he even had those movies, I'll never know. So we ended up watching _The Field of Dreams._ Mostly because he could stand the movie and I absolutely _loved_ it. I mean where else do you get questions like, "is this heaven?" that have an answer of, "no it's Iowa." and the epic whisper from beyond of _if you build it he will come._ God I love this movie. Even went to the place when I was younger. My dad and I played ball on the baseball field and had our pictures taken coming out of the corn.

I lounged lazily against Cephi as he gently ran fingers through my hair. I had never had such a problem paying attention to a movie before in my life. And the soft stroking was so relaxing it almost put me to sleep. I was so content sitting here with this man. The man I had fantasized about for months.

A thrill, that I'm noy ashamed to admit went straight to my groin, went through me as he began kissing my neck. I mewled in appreciation as his gentle touches continued. God I loved watching movies with him.

I was starting to really get into the fooling when there was a flash in my memory. I sat up rigidly and Cephi stopped his touching. He gave me a look but said nothing. Just watching for what I was going to do next.

My eyes went wide. I had forgotten...

A guy with curly blonde hair and freckles.

Friend of Tiearyu's. Cephi.

I forgot to tell him that guy said hi.

Aww, I can't believe I did that. And for nearly two weeks. I turned around and looked up at him, knowing that I had to tell him now or it'd probably be another two weeks (or longer) before I thought of it again. For some unexplainable reason I felt like I needed to tell him. I couldn't just brush the man's words off as too late to matter. If an old friend of mine had seen Cephi and told him a message for me, I'd want Cephi to tell me.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you," I looked up at him a huge smile on my face. "Theophilus says hello."

The reaction was instantaneous and totally not what I was expecting.

A small gasp left the beautiful man's lips and he swiftly wrestled me beneath him, straddling my legs. His hands were pressed non-too-gently on my shoulders. He shook me violently and I winced as my head snapped back hitting the arm of his sofa.

 _Ouch_ , that hurt.

I looked up at him in confusion.

Why was he doing this to me?

Not two seconds ago he had been kissing me and now he looked like he wanted to murder me.

His lips curled back into a dangerous sneer. "So that's what's going on here," he muttered darkly emitting a sick chuckling sound absolutely devoid of humor.

And I'm glad he knows what's going on, 'cause I have absolutely no clue.

One of his hands snaked its way around my neck and squeezed. Not enough to stop the air flow completely, but i really had to work for it. It succeeded it thoroughly scaring the crap out of me as well. I was acutely aware of how easily he could decide he didn't want me breathing any more.

"You, my _friend_ , almost had me fooled."

I looked at him in fear and confusion, "Wha-

He tightened his grip on my neck. My eyes went wide in panic. I couldn't breathe.

"I knew you were too good too be true," he was muttering. Mostly to himself, didn't seem to care if I heard what he was saying or not. "Should have seen it the first day. No human speaks Messenger. No human works for _him_." There were black spots dancing around the edges of my vision. If I don't get air soon, I'm going to pass out.

"Show them to me," he slammed my head against the arm rest. My teeth jarred together with the force of the blow and I bit my tongue. My head hurt so bad. And now he wants me to show him God knows what.

"Show you what?" I attempted to rasp out. But no air generally equals no voice.

There was a sharp stinging on my face and a resounding slap. my head snapped to the side with the force of the blow. "You are _not_ passing out on me," the guy growled.

He had moved his hand from around my neck when he slapped me and I was now greedily taking in as much air as I could possibly manage. I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. No... no way was I going to cry.

I was fixed with a cold disgusted look, "Wow, you're a good actor. No wonder he chose you."

Both hands were on my shoulders now and I was swiftly flipped over so my back was facing him. My face pressed into the hard arm of the sofa.

"SHOW ME THEM!" he growled, clawing at my back. I heard the fabric of my shirt rip. Felt the heat from the unfriendly body above me. The body that had made me feel so comfortable earlier.

I felt his hand on my back. It wasn't moving, just resting there. Maybe he was having second thoughts?

"Stop _please_. I don't know what you want," I cried desperately clawing blindly at the furniture in an attempt to get away.

Both of his hands were on my back now and I was terrified by the strength he possessed. I couldn't move. "Fine, you want to play dumb, I'll make them come out myself."

I struggled against his iron grip. Whatever he wanted out, I was determined to keep _in_. His hands raked gently up my back searching for whatever he was looking for. Slightly below my shoulders he began to prod my back. Massage it.

And... _holy poop on a popsicle._ It felt amazing. I moaned. _Jesus_ I _moaned_. My struggling had been forgotten and I was practically writhing under him.

_Why am I having this type of reaction?_

I heard a low hiss of, "I knew you were lying," but it sounded muted and far away to my pleasure overloaded senses.

I couldn't explain what was happening. It felt so good. All he was doing was massaging my back and I couldn't even _think_ straight.

It just felt so _good_.

Why was it affecting me this way? I let out another breathy moan as he kneaded a particularly sensitive spot.

And I felt it. A pressure building up. Where his hands were fondling. The pleasurable feeling was growing. And I dimly wondered if this is what it would feel like if my shoulders were getting ready to ejaculate.

Then all of a sudden the good feeling was gone. The pressure going from amazing pleasure to immense pain. Agonizing pain.

Oh God this was torture.

I whimpered, overcome by the horrible throbbing in my back.

It was like I had been stabbed in the back. I screamed.

I felt my skin rip like fabric.

And something shot from my back, flinging Cephi off of me in the process. I gave a gut wrenching sob and buried my head in the crooks of my elbows.

"Get out," the low dangerous voice of the other man hissed at my shuddering form.

I jerked my head up in shock and felt my vision swim. If I could barely lift my head how was I going to leave?

Over my shoulder I caught a glimpse of white.

"Get out," he boomed, much louder but still as deadly.

I clamoured to my feet. And immediately fell to the floor. My legs were shaking too bad to support me. "Oh for the love of..." he growled and grabbed my forearm roughly hauling me to my feet. "Stop acting like you've never released them before. Get out of my house."

I was dragged roughly to the door and pushed through the frame. My new appendages were barely through when he slammed the door shut. I heard the resounding click of the dead bolt. My legs buckled under me and I sat in his hallway willing my body to miraculously gain some strength. "You know, God, if you wanted to help me out here, I'd be much obliged," I whispered jokingly to myself. If I didn't try to joke about something I was very certain I would dissolve into tears again.

My pain slowly started ebbing away and I attempted to stand again. My legs were still wobbly and I leaned heavily against the wall for support, but I could stand. I staggered slowly back to my apartment.

The first thing I did when reaching home was run into my bedroom to stand in front of my floor length mirror. I wanted too see what Cephi had forced out of me. I stared at my reflection in awe., walking right up to the glass I extended a hand to its surface outlining my features. Actually most of me looked exactly the same and rather disheveled from my earlier rough treatment. But the things that were _different_ were so... breathtaking I found myself wanting to cry just looking at them. My eyes almost seemed to glow. There was a new light to them that hadn't been there before. The biggest difference were the two wings sprouting out of my back. They looked so soft, so pure and white. I reached a hand back to make sure they were real and caressed a cloud. Never had I felt something so soft. I used muscles I didn't even know I had and flexed them. The shuddered. They were very hard to move. I'd have to work on that.

The longer I looked the more I thought and my thoughts, after the bout of awe, were not happy. Why hadn't I know what I was? Why did Cephi know? Why did he think I was working for Theo? I thought they were friends. And more importantly, how was I going to get the wings to go away? I couldn't go out like this. That ment I couldn't deliver my paintings to Tim, or go on late night walks when I couldn't sleep. It also ment I couldn't go back to Cephi and give the man a piece of my mind.

Hot anger coursed through me. I curled my hand into a fist overcome with the urge to hit something. The mirror never stood a chance as I brought my fist back and punched it sending shards of glass everywhere. Instead of feeling calmer I only felt more enraged at the site of the mess I had made. I growled in despair and my lights flickered and then went out completely.

The electric must have gone out for some reason.

Fuming, I fumbled my way over to my bed and flopped down on the old thing. I curled up and let my wings wrap around me crying fat angry tears until, exhausted, I fell asleep.


	12. The Unexpected Visit

There was an amazing spike of energy. If he had to guess it was an angel. An angel releasing their wings for the first time. His thoughts went immediately to the little treasure his two imbecile vamps had brought to his attention. He knew it was that boy. Speaking of vamps… they would have felt that too. They were probably on their way to the meeting place.

He'd go and tell them their next course of action. And he knew they'd love it. After all they finally got to be reunited with that delectable little morsel and now that they knew he wasn't human he's be able to let the two dolts have a lot more fun with the boy. After all angels were hard to kill. And they only needed him alive long enough to get Tiearyu into their clutches. Then both him and the boy would die. He smiled to himself. He loved getting away with murder.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been around thirty minutes since Theo felt the spike of energy. He was on the move, looking for the being that had released it. He wanted to see for himself what had had so much raw power. It had actually made the lights in the city flicker and go out causing a massive blackout.

He followed the waves that were pulsing out of the creature. The closer the waves felt the closer he was getting to the thing he was looking for. And the closer he was getting to a really crappy section of town.

And there it was. The building the creature lived in. Paint chipping and just plain awful to look at, it stood proud against truly ghastly surroundings. He walked up to the front door of the place and was not surprised to see a bullet hole in the window. What did surprise him was the coded lock to get inside. How was he supposed to… he did not really want to… Well, he supposed it was unavoidable. He would use his powers.

He placed his hand gently on top of the box and concentrated on the ten numbers he had to choose from. It was a simple process really. All he had to do was tap into a little of his ethereal strength and he would easily discern which numbers were pressed based on the memory of the machine he was touching and the warmth of the buttons.

When he learned to code he rolled his eyes. 1-1-1-1. Some code.

He swiftly made his way to the floor where the energy was the strongest and went to the section of the hall. There were a couple of rooms to choose from, and now that he was so it was hard to narrow down exactly which door the force was coming from. So he guessed.

He knocked on the door.

And nobody came.

Perhaps he didn't knock loud enough.

He knocked again, louder this time.

There was a cranky grumbling from the other side. "I'm coming. I'm coming. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

He was reasonably sure this wasn't who he was looking for, but the door opened and there stood an old man. The old guy gave his chest a scratch and said, "Well, what you want?"

How did one say they were looking for an energy? Well ,Theo was pretty sure they didn't unless they wanted to end up in a nice safe place with padding protecting everything in the room.

"Yes. I'm looking for an Allen Bruel. Does he by any chance live here?" Theo asked turning on the charm.

"Allen?" the man barked, "What you want with Allen?"

Theo could tell by the look on the man's face that he had a few ideas of his own about what he wanted with Allen. And he decided to go along with those ideas.

"Well," he began lazily, "we became acquainted the other day and he just couldn't seem to get enough of me. Insatiable, that one. And I'm always willing to come… over and play a few rounds."

Theo smirked in satisfaction when he saw the old man's face was a nice heated crimson. "So, I'll ask again. Which room is Allen's?"

The man pointed to the door next to his.

"Thank you," he said curtly and turned toward the door.

Right when he was about to knock on what he was sure was the right room the old man called to him, "Make sure to wear a condom!" and then the door slammed.

There were some really strange people living in this building. And perhaps the most strange of all was in the room that old man had directed him to.

He knocked on the door.

There was no answer.

He knocked louder.

Still nothing.

He tried the handle. Maybe the door was unlocked. Unlikely but it was certainly worth a try.

Really? It was unlocked. Who left a door unlocked in an environment like this? It either meant the resident was foolish and always kept his door unlocked or something happened that made him forget, or unable, to lock the door.

He left himself in.

 

* * *

 

 

I woke up with a start. I had been dreaming something fierce but could no longer remember what it had been about. But it had terrified me. My breathing was ragged and I was drenched in sweat.

And my back was killing me. I reached a hand back to rub the sore areas and felt something protruding from my back. The events from last night came flooding back to me. The wings... Cephi...

I sighed in frustration. What was I going to do with wings? There was only one day when it was acceptable to dress up, and today was not that day.

But how did I get them to go away?

How had Cephi gotten them to appear?

That's right he massaged my back. Would doing that also make them go away? I figured it was worth a try.

I began massaging the base of the wings to the best of my ability. Nothing seemed to be happening. There was no pleasure like the previous night. Or, pain.

I gave a frustrated groan. Nothing was happening. Nothing at all.

What was I going to do? I couldn't go outside like this. I could barely move around my apartment. And worst of all, this had all been brought on by Cephi who I thought was my friend.

Oh, and I'm not human...

I flopped back down on my bed. There _had_ to be a way to get these wings to recede. I just had to think of it.

I don't know how it happened but I must have dozed off at some point in time.

The first thing I noticed upon waking was that I was not alone. I jumped out of my bed in fright. And landed on the floor with a thud.

"Theo? What are you doing here?" I hissed. "How do you know where I live?"

He didn't say anything at first. Just slowly prowled closer to me with a grin plastered on his face. Me heart leapt into my throat. The grin wasn't happy. It was a predator's grin. nothing good could come from somebody wearing that expression.

"Hello Allen."


	13. Innocent

Cephi was pacing furiously around his flat. Had been since Allen left. He had tried to stop, to calm himself several times, but he was just so _angry_. He trusted Allen. _Trusted_ him. And the boy had betrayed that trust. It was no wonder the kid had been so earnest, so wanting of a relationship with a despicable creature like him. So perfect in every way that Cephi could think of.

There was no doubt in his mind that bastard of an angel Theophilus had found and trained that boy to use against him. And he had almost been completely ensnared by those innocent eyes and beguiling smile.

He wanted to yell. Rip his hair out. Punch something. Anything to relieve some of the pent up fury he was feeling. He had been so close to loving that kid. _So_ _close_.

His heart gave a painful lurch in his chest. Maybe he had been closer than he thought. He had forgotten how painful it was to lose someone. Sure Allen hadn't died, hadn't disappeared from this world, but Cephi's faith in the man had been crushed into little bits.

Cephi clenched his fists in barely suppressed rage. He made a silent vow to never get close to anyone again. Every time he did something happened that left him feeling betrayed and lost. Whoever came up with the saying _it's better to have loved and lost than never loved at all_ had gotten it wrong. It was so much better to go without anyone, to feel the gentle pull of loneliness than the sharp slap in the face that was betrayal.

He let out an angry hiss.

"Who peed in your Cheerios?" a snobbish voice drawled. And there was the owner of that voice leaning against his fridge, arms crossed with a crooked smirk on his annoyingly handsome face.

Cephi crossed the room in two powerful bounds and grabbed a fistful of the smug man's shirt. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he growled.

The man brushed Cephi's hands away easily, which just pissed the man off even more. "Come now, Cephirial, I thought we were friends," the man said sounding genuinely shocked by the rude welcoming he received.

"Cut the crap," Cephi spat, "what do you want?"

"Can't I just swing by to visit a friend? The man asked easily. The look on Cephi's face clearly stated that the answer to that question was _no_. And there was that _F_ word again. _Friend_. No way, no how. Not with this man.

"Jesus, will you just tell me why you're here." He demanded, about ready to pull his hair out again. The man was just so _aggravating_. His appearance so soon after Allen's betrayal was like adding salt and cyanide to a gaping wound.

The intruder sighed, irritated, and brushed back a strand of dark hair. "Cephi, Cephi," he began in a sing-song voice, "as much as it flatters me to be called _that_ name, how many times do I have to tell you, my name's Lucifer."

Cephi let out a frustrated breath. He was getting absolutely nowhere with this infuriating man with his current attitude. It was time to try being reasonable. "Lucifer, I've had a really shit day. Can you please tell me why you're in my home." And maybe turn down your you-ness he added in his head.

"If you don't know why I'm here then you're a bigger idiot than I thought," Lucifer shot back. Cephi gave a sharp inhale. He would not hit the ruler of Hell. He would not hit the ruler of Hell. He would not hit the ruler…

"You really don't know why I'm here?" Lucifer asked with a skeptically raised brow. Cephi shot him a look that said _duh_.

"No shit," Lucifer just stared at Cephi in wonder and Cephi stared back refusing to break the man's gaze. After a few minutes Cephi couldn't take it anymore. "Are you going to tell me what I'm already supposed to know or are we gonna continue to stare at each other?"

There was a drastic change in attitude. Lucifer went from joking and carefree to sullen so fast Cephi wondered if he ever experienced emotional whiplash. And suddenly the fierce ruler looked vulnerable.

"You know I still feel it every time it happens," the man spoke softly.

Could he get anymore vague? Cephi had absolutely no clue what Lucifer was referring to. And it must have shown on his face because the man sighed and began to explain further.

"I'm sure you remember what it was like the first time your wings came out." Cephi nodded. It had been the most pleasurable and painful experience of his life.

"Well, then you also know that angels experience the pleasure the one gaining the wings feels." Again Cephi nodded. It had been a long time since his fall, but he could still remember the rapture felt by all angels when another got their wings for the first time. Something he hadn't felt since his fall to earth.

"When an angel loses their wings typically they are cut off from this feeling of bliss. They feel nothing. Which I'm sure you noticed." And Cephi nodded a third time.

"What you might not know is that I still feel it every time it happens," Lucifer echoed his words from earlier. "But instead of pleasure I share their pain. I alone share the pain with the new angel." Cephi felt dread and a little worm of guilt begin to pool in his stomach. He was afraid he knew where this conversation was heading and he didn't like it one bit. Because it meant he was wrong.

"While the feeling of pleasure is about the same for each new angel the amount of pain varies significantly. The stronger the angel the more pain is experienced," Lucifer looked Cephi straight in the eyed and fixed him with the most earnest expression he knew how to make. "Last night I an angel got their wings and I was incapacitated for nearly twelve hours.

Cephi's stomach nearly dropped out. Last night had been when Allen… But there were hundreds of angels out there what were the chances that the one last night had been him?

"Then why are you here?" Cephi asked hoarsely.

"Did you know when they get their wings for the first time they leave a sort of residue. I don't want to say it's magical because it's not, but, well, I guess it's simply power. After I could move I had to see where the power was coming from," the man concluded. He didn't have to say the power was coming from Cephi's place. If it weren't Cephi knew Lucifer wouldn't be there.

"It was actually quite a surprise when I found you here," Lucifer admitted sheepishly.

Cephi's legs felt like they might buckle under his own weight. He staggered his way to his couch and sat down burying his face in his hands. " _Shit!_ " he hissed.

"Dude, what's the matter with you?" Lucifer watched the man's reaction with interest.

"I've made a horrible mistake," the man moaned. He let out a shaky breath. Guilt was threatening to overtake him. Allen didn't know. Well, _hadn't_ known what he was. And Cephi had not only not believed him, he… he… "Forced him to change."

Lucifer heard the man's muttering loud and clear. He fixed another quizzical look at the man. It shouldn't have been possible to force the change. There was no forcing an angel's wings to come out. It happened naturally. Usually around the time of maturation. But Cephi said he had forced the change. How _interesting_. That only happened with those half-breeds- nephilim- and there was no way that powerful being was half _anything_. There were many angels who didn't possess that much power. Something didn't make sense.

He heard a sniffling and noticed the tears threatening to pour out of the other's eyes. And then something else didn't make sense. Cephi was known for not giving two shits for anyone. And here he was showing remorse for how he treated another. Almost crying over some guy!

A sly smile formed on Lucifer's face. "You _like_ this guy," Lucifer accused.

"Yeah," Cephi agreed.

Damn. It was no fun when they agreed like that.

"Then why'd you make his wings come out?" Lucifer asked gently, just trying to understand what had happened. Lucifer would never force anyone's wings out it hurt too much.

"I thought… I thought…" Cephi took a breath, trying to compose himself. "I thought he was working with Theophilus."

Lucifer's eyes widened. Now there's a name he's rather not here. Nothing good ever came when that man was involved. It's a wonder he was still an angel. "Why'd you think that?"

"He said 'Theophilus said hello' and I jumped to the conclusion on my own."

"Oh, Hell."

Cephi looked up at Lucifer.

"You said you like this boy, right?" the man asked for clarification.

"Yeah?"

"How much do you like him?" Lucifer pried. It seemed like an invasive question. And it was… but it was important.

Cephi answered proudly and with certainty, "I'd die for him."

Lucifer sighed, "That's what I was afraid you'd say."

"What?"

Lucifer advanced on him in an excited fury. "Can't you see what's going on here?"

Cephi just gave him a confused look.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. Some people were just so stupid. "Where's the boy now?"

The answer was barely a whisper. "I threw him out."

Oh for the love of… Lucifer over to the fridge. "You'd better go and find him, and quick. Because if Theo finds him first you'll have a repeat of what happened all those years ago. And this time he'll make sure to eliminate you too."

Cephi shot to his feet.

"Get moving before it's too late," Lucifer advised, opening the door to Cephi's freezer.

"Where're you going?"

Lucifer gave a smile. "Back to Hell," with that said, he crawled into the freezer. He popped his head out and gave Cephi one last look. "Good luck." And with that, Lucifer closed the freezer door.

Cephi sighed. He'd need that luck. He had to find Allen before Theo did or… He really didn't want to think of what would happen.

He flung open his front door at a run. He decided he'd start his search at Allen's house. And he hoped to God the boy was there.


	14. Reunion

They met in a non descript alley. Van, Desoto and their beloved master. He was sneering at them like they were no more than dirt, and, perhaps they were. "I have a surprise that I think will make the two of you _extremely_ … happy." The man began with a nasty curl to his lip.

Van looked at the man skeptically. He didn't look like he was about to tell them something they wanted to hear. He heard a giggle from beside him and glared at his brother. If he were a dog his tail would be going 90 miles per minute, Van wouldn't be surprised if he'd roll over and let their master scratch his belly. "What's the surprise? Is it food? Is it? Is it?" Yeah definitely a puppy. He was pretty sure there was drool pooling in Desoto's mouth.

"Actually, whelp, it _is_ ," the man said silkily.

"Oh, boy! I knew it!" Desoto pumped his fist into the air. Van growled at him in warning. He needed to learn to control his enthusiasm in front of people like their master or he'd live a rather shortened life.

"Yes, I have decided my vamps have been doing such a good job, that they deserve a second chance at a certain delectable morsel that refused to die." Vans eyes grew large with realization. The master was going to let them drink from that boy again. The boy with the sweet blood that painted angels.

"And, since we know he's not human, you can gorge yourselves with his blood," the master gave a toothy smile that made Van's insides crawl.

"Yeah!" Desoto punched the air.

"After you've weakened him to the point where he can barely move, I am going to come in and take him."

"You think it wise to do that?" Van asked startled. He was met with a strong force against his face. He fell to the ground with a snarl. The master had backhanded him across the face.

"Do not question me," the man seethed, deadly quiet, "with that boy in my grasp, I will finally be able to get rid of Cephirial and, if all goes according to plan, that boy will die too." He laughed menacingly and told the vamps when they would make their attack.

 

* * *

 

 

I was painting another picture. A sullen man walking through a bloody battlefield, fallen comrades laying dead all around him their beautiful corpses mangled on the ground. His face was hard set against all that was happening around him as if to say, that was not going to be his fate. He would not be one of the nameless on that cold dark battlefield, but someone who lived. And I guess this kind of goes without saying at this point, but the man was Cephi.

Yeah, I know he treated me horribly the last time we were together, but I just couldn't shake him from my system. And a little part of me hoped I'd see him again. Now that my wings were no longer out, I felt like I could think clearly, and I hoped he'd had time to cool down too. I just couldn't get the look on his face out of my head. When I told him Theo said hello, he just looked so betrayed, like everything in his life was just flipped upside down. And I feared those feelings were my fault.

Maybe, yeah, I'd definitely go to see him when I was done with this painting. It's be a little late, since the sun was already starting to set, but I wanted to talk to him again, hopefully clear the air between us. And if all worked out alright, maybe we could pick up from where we left off in the relationship thing we had going.

I was cleaning out my paintbrushes when there was a soft but insistent knock on my door. I sighed and set the brushes in the sink. Slowly I made my way over to the door and opened it.

The person on the other side flung the door open and grabbed me. I was pulled into a tight embrace. "Cephi," I breathed out before hugging him back. I buried my head into the crook of his neck letting myself relax in his protective hold. I missed him. His touch. His smell. His very essence.

But… "I'm sorry Allen," he whispered. It was the most sincere apology I had ever heard. I wanted to assure him that I accepted his apology so I pulled back and put my hands on both sides of his face. He gave me a questioning look, but made no move to stop me as I stood on my tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"It's okay," I answered gently.

"But it's not! It's not okay," he countered, words full of passion. "I didn't believe you. I thought you were working with _him_. I _hurt_ you. Nothing will ever make that okay!" he closed my door and then grabbed my hands leading me over to my raggedy chair. "I want to explain myself to you. Explain why I went so… so…"

"Totally ballistic?" I supplied.

"Sure we'll go with that. " I sat down on my chair and motioned for him to join me on the old piece of furniture. "Do you remember the story I told you about my past?"

"Yeah," there was no way I could forget that story. Even though I didn't believe it was true at the time, it was still a horrible story for those involved. An angel wrongly cast out of heaven for killing a fellow angel. God refusing to listen even as a truly evil angel was standing right in front of her. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Demon among angels.

"The reason I was so angry when you brought up Theo… was because he's the evil angel from my tale. The one who broke my wings and sent me plummeting to earth, and, I'm one hundred percent sure, the person who _really_ murdered my friend." I gasped at the admittance.

Theo was the evil angel? But he had helped me. Well… then again, he did seem a little… _unbalanced_. "If he's the one that murdered your friend, why are you the one who was punished?"

Cephi's face contorted in anger. "There was no proof that it was him. And even I must admit, upon first glance, all signs pointed to me killing them. But once you looked deeper, it was abundantly clear that Theo set the whole thing up." He turned his face to the ceiling and yelled. "And if God wasn't such a whiny bitch when she gets something wrong, maybe she'd realize she _made a mistake_." There was a distant rumble of thunder. "Ha, knew that'd get her."

I laughed and then yawned. Wow, when had I gotten so tired?

"Oh," Cephi said looking flummoxed. "If you want to sleep I can go."

"No!" I answered a little too quickly, a little too forcefully. I cleared my throat, "What I mean is, well. You don't have to leave. Why don't you stay here tonight? The bed's small but, I think there's enough room for us to both fit."

A wily smile crept on his face, "Is this a fancy way of asking me to sleep with you?"

"Yeah, _sleep_ ," I stressed. There was no way I'd be up for anything else. Uh… no pun intended?

He let out a hearty chuckle and we both made our way into the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

The first thing I am aware of in the morning is soft lips placed firmly against mine. Teasing me, nipping, trying to get some kind of a response. I groaned into the kiss and felt those tantalizing lips curl into a smile before continuing their earlier activity, with the added help of a tongue.

And, oh God could that tongue do wonderful things!

But soon enough the kissing and touching came to an end. I put a gentle hand on Cephi's chest. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I need to actually do some work today."

"Gonna paint another picture of me?"

"Yup," I answered and he swooped in for another heated kiss. I managed to wiggle out of bed. "Be good." I warned.

"Yes, master," he said looking up at me from his position on my bed.

 _Mmm_ , I liked the sound of that.

Arms snaked around d my torso. "I really want to know what you're imagining right now," he said wistfully.

"Yeah," and just like that, I had an idea, "how about… I show you _exactly_ what I was imagining tonight. _After_ I'm done with another painting."

He just laughed. "Fine, I can see when I'm not wanted," he joked. "But I'm holding you to that." Cephi made his way over to the door. "I'll see you at eight," he promised before leaving my apartment.

I rushed to my easel and quickly began to paint another picture. I decided yesterday that I'd paint a couple at once and then go and give them all to Tim at once. It'd be more of a pain in the butt to carry, but I'd deal with it.

A couple of hours later I stood critiquing my latest painting. It was simple portrait with nothing in it but Cephi from the shoulders up his eyes were still obscured and almost seemed to blend with the stormy grey background. It was interesting, almost bordering on surrealism the way his face broke in and out of the sky behind it, almost taking on the roll of clouds in the dismal sky.

I guess it was good. Pretty sure someone will want it.

I pulled out my phone and looked at the time. 6:30. Plenty of time before Cephi got here.

There was a knock on the door, not even five minutes later.

I smiled to myself. Cephi was really early. I looked down at my clothes hoping there were no giant paint stains, and success, I managed to paint without getting anything on myself. Wonders never cease.

I opened to door saying in greeting, "Wow you're really early."

"Actually," a voice that was definitely not Cephi answered, "I believe we're right on time. It was them. Those _vampires_ from the alley. The ones who tried to, tried to kill me. _Oh God no_. I went to slam the door shut. But the one who had spoken grabbed it, holding it open with his inhuman strength.

"What are we on time for Van?" asked the other one enthusiastically as he sauntered into my room.

"Dinner," the door holder growled lowly before coming into the room and punching me straight in the face.


	15. Help

It all happened so quickly after that. I fell backwards at the force of the blow, but never made it to the floor. Instead I was caught by the other vampire. He wasted no time in sinking his fangs into my neck. I moaned in pain. He moaned… for another reason.

Wrenching his teeth out of my neck the vampire groaned "Van, he tastes even better than last time," he held me close and nuzzled his face into the bite he had made.

"Desoto," the other said sternly, scolding, "stop playing with your food. Remember what we're supposed to be doing."

I tried to get away with all of my might. They were supposed to be doing something to me. Last time I almost died. Maybe they were trying to finish the job. The vampire holding me wasn't even phased by my struggles, he just held me closer and answered his brother with an, "Oh yeah," as if just remembering why they were doing this to me. Then he sunk his fangs back into my neck and started chewing on it like a kid gnaws on taffy.

I renewed my struggling. I wanted to get away. But the other one, Van, put a stop to my feeble attempts rather quickly. He punched me in the stomach and smacked me upside the head again while his brother continued to drink. I saw stars and closed my legs against the pain. While I was busy in Lalla land Van grabbed my wrist and began to gorge himself with his brother.

I had already been feeling the effects of blood loss from Desoto's sucking. Now with Van drinking as well…I was fading fast. Every time I struggled they would do something to hurt me. Bite me harder, punch, slap, kick me. But soon my struggles turned sluggish, The longer they drank the heavier my limbs felt. The more numb I became.

Van broke from my wrist. "Not too much more, Desoto," he cautioned to his brother. So maybe they weren't going to kill me… unless I was closer to death than I thought. Could be. My mind was swimming. I couldn't really make sense of what was happening. And now there were patches in my consciousness. My blinks kept getting longer. It was a struggle just to stay awake. To keep my eyes open.

"That's enough," a cool authoritative voice ordered from my doorway.

" _Theo_?" I questioned slowly. The vampires immediately let me go and I fell to the floor. Too weak to stand or move. I felt absolutely drained. But I was hopeful. Theo was here. I know Cephi had said he was evil… but he had helped me. When I was scared and angry and alone he helped me put my wings away. And he had just told them to stop drinking my blood.

"Oh, Allen… Allen, Allen," Theo sang looking down at me. I inwardly cringed at th look in his eyes. They were hard with absolutely no warmth. They left me feeling scared. But he was speaking to me in the same flippant tone that he always seemed to use. "Why do I always find you in these strange situations?" He smiled that creepy smile that made my flesh crawl.

It was hard for me to even open my mouth but I managed to choke out the words, "Help me."

All three of them laughed. "You mean he doesn't _know_ ," Desoto asked incredulously.

Van gave a small smile shaking his head. I was getting a bad feeling about this. Theo slunk forward like a predator that knew its prey had no hopes of getting away and came to rest in front of my prone form. He grabbed my wrist and dug his fingers into the bite mark that was there, smile growing wider as I weakly cried out in pain. And then as if explaining to a child he said to me, "You see Allen, I am, unfortunately, not here to _help_ you," then turning to the vampires he praised them, "You did a good job weakening him."

My skin crawled where he touched me. I felt sick. He wasn't helping me. He was with _them_. Hurt and confusion flashed on my face. I felt betrayed. Theo laughed out loud. "I can tell by your wounded expression that you have finally pieced it together," he dropped my wrist and smirked as it fell limply to the ground. "I am their master."

He stood up briskly and rubbed his hands together. The vampires stood behind him waiting for him to bark out his next set of orders. I saw, in his right hand a bright orb-like light manifesting, casting eerie shadows on the face of its creator. "But unfortunately their usefulness has run out," he shrugged as if it were no big deal. "I no longer need them."

Desoto looked confused and Van muttered " _Shit,"_ before Theo turned around and threw the now basketball sized light at the vampires. As soon as it got near them they screamed in agony and burst into flames. Soon they were nothing more than two piles of ash.

Theo giggled and clapped his hands together childishly. Holy crap was this guy cruel. If he could kill people that were loyal to him without blinking an eye and then _laugh_ about it, I didn't stand a chance. "Ah, that was fun," I wanted to vomit all over again at the cheery exclamation. "Vampires . Easy to fry, easy to die," he began to sing over and over. Then he stopped and looked thoughtfully down at me. "Especially when I have the power of the sun on my side!"

He bent down and grabbed me hoisting me to my feet. "Now, you, _you_ are useful. You I need." The wicked smile was back in place. "You, you filthy _nephilim_ , are going to help me get rid of Cephirial once and for all." I had no clue what a nephilim was but… it sounded bad. I did know that I didn't want this psycho anywhere near Cephi.

"Never," I seethed with more strength that I probably possessed at the moment. There was no way I'd help him hurt Cephirial.

Theo left out a dark guffaw and spoke lowly, "Oh, you don't have a choice in the matter."

 

* * *

 

 

Cephirial made his way to Allen's apartment. He sighed in content. He was… happy. He realized. Allen had forgiven him and they had a budding relationship. Never had he expected his lonely exile to change.

He knew it was cheesy, but he had went out on a whim and gotten a flower for the boy. It was a single white lily. Beautiful and innocent, reminding him strongly of Allen. He walked up the stairs and saw an old man angrily knocking on Allen's door. "Allen! Allen Bruel! Open this Goddamn door!" the man barked.

Cephi cleared his throat. "Oh, _Jesus Christ_ , another one," the man threw up his hands.

"Another what?" Cephi asked curiously.

"Well you're obviously a _sex friend_ ," the old man shot back swiftly.

"I'm Allen's boyfriend," Cephi said doing his best to keep smiling at the crazy old man.

" _Are you sure_?" the old man asked. Cephi just glared at him. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Tiearyu."

"Well, Tiearyu, son," the man began putting what was probably supposed to be a comforting hand on his shoulder, "I don't know how to tell you this.. but your boyfriend's cheatin' on you."

"No he's not," Cephirial answered with certainty. There was no way that was even remotely possible…

"Oh. So you _know_ about the other guys?" Cephi's heart leapt. Someone had been here? "Are you having one of those orgy parties? 'Cause if you are, I wanna be invite-"

"What did the other guys look like?" Cephi asked urgently. He had a sinking suspicion he knew exactly who had been to Allen's room.

"Well the two that came first were really big and scary. Maybe brothers. And the other, a blonde, he's been here before. I heard moaning and banging and nobody's come ou-"

Cephirial raced to the door. He threw his weight against it and was satisfied when it gave way. Weak old door.

Inside he heard nothing. He could tell right away that Allen wasn't there. And he could smell blood. Then he saw two piles of what looked like ash on the ground very close to some blood that was smeared on the floor. Too much blood for his liking.

Cephirial howled in despair and started to pace trying to figure out what to do now. He flung the flower across the room and kicked the closest piece of furniture to him, which just happened to be the kitchen table. The table skidded across the floor and a piece of parchment fluttered off of it, landing on the ground by his feet.

It was a note. A fucking note from that _bastard._

 

* * *

_Cephi, Cephirial, Tiearyu, whatever the fuck you want to be called,_

_I've taken your precious Halfling away. I'm planning_   
_on killing him if you don't come for him soon. He can join your_   
_friend. I think you know where I am. If not, I'm sure you'll_   
_figure it out. :)_

_See you soon,_   
_ <3 Theophilus_

* * *

 

 

Cephi closed his eyes and inhaled a shaky breath doing everything in his power to stay calm. It didn't work. He yelled, growled, crumbled up the note and picked on the table some more. Once he had calmed down a little, and the table was smashed into unrecognizable splinters , Cephi did something he hadn't done since his fall.

He used his powers.

 


	16. Sorry

It was strange. Using his powers after so long. He had completely closed odd that part of himself. It hurt too much to remember how he was and his powers were like his old life slapping him in the face. They forced him to remember. Remember those beautiful wings that were now grotesquely mangled nubs of flesh. The tranquility of life that had gone so terribly wrong. All his friends and family who he hadn't seen in years. He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to most of them. And all the bad things that had transpired since, and during his fall. He felt them all too strongly when using his powers.

But he had to save Allen. Life without that boy would be far worse than reliving all of those memories for eternity. For the first time in years Cephi was glad he still possessed the powers of an angel. And he intended to use them to find Theo and put an end to this madness once and for all.

With enough practice, all angels could sense other angels, and demons, actually. Each angel had a unique energy about them that produced an aura. The aura could be followed like a bread trail. The stronger the angel, the brighter the aura, making them easier to find. The reason Theophilus had such a hard time finding Cephi all these years was because Cephi was a sliver of his former strength. Without his wings and by denying what was left of himself before coming down to earth, Cephirial was virtually aura-less.

Untraceable.

Which had saved his life on many occasions. It was easy to get lost in a crowd when even the best bloodhounds couldn't track you.

He felt the strong auras and then saw them. One, a bright white-blue. Cephirial knew this one well. He had seen it many times in heaven and had even sought it out on occasions to ask advice from Theo. The other, he had never seen before and had never seen anything like it being produced by an angel. Maybe a demon. It was an electric red and gold. And not that fake yellow-gold, it was metallic looking. The two separate colors flowed together, swirling and twirling around each other but never actually mixing. He knew it had to be Allen.

Maybe it was because he was only half. Cephi had never seen the aura of a halfling. But it was strange that it was so bright. He had heard that nephilim weren't that strong. But, that stuff wasn't important right now. Cephi pushed it to the back of his mind. He could figure that stuff out later. For now, he had to get Allen back.

Cephirial started to follow the auras. He bounded out of the building at a run, ignoring the disgruntled man that was _still_ in the hallway and raced out onto the streets. He followed the lights out of town to a small forested area. And finally he stood in front of a cave.

There he wasted no time in summoning his weapon. He hadn't seen it in years. All angels had a heavenly weapon they used in battle. Cephi's was a long sword he named _Orun_. Theo's was a dagger.

He cautiously made his way into the cave not wanting to get caught unaware by any of Theo's tricks. Cephi stepped into a fairly large cavern and saw Theo standing there holding a Allen tightly to his chest.

Firelight cast deep shadows on the pair. Theo leaned down and stage whispered to Allen, "See, I told you he'd come to rescue you."

Allen glared in response jamming his body back into Theo's as hard as he could. There was tape over his mouth and his hands and ankles were bound making it hard to do anything else. "Ooh, _feisty,_ " Theo purred.

"Theo, let him go," Cephi bellowed angrily.

"I don't think I want to," the angel yawned.

Cephirial growled and raised his sword planning to force the other to let Allen go. He started to charge.

Theo calmly pulled his dagger out of thin air and positioned it over Allen's chest. Over Allen's heart.

"One more step and he dies," Theo promised.

Cephi heard Allen whimper as the heavenly blade bit into his flesh and stopped in his tracks. He held his sword at the ready, waiting for Theo to make his next move. Unfortunately, Cephi couldn't do anything with that blade so close to Allen's flesh. Heavenly weapons like that dagger produced wounds that could kill angels.

Theo smirked, "That's better," he leaned his head down into the crook of Allen's neck, while still managing to keep the dagger in place, and rubbed against Allen's cheek similar to the way a car would mark its master. "Now doesnt this look familiar?" the insane man mused aloud. "This is just how your friend died, isn't it?" Theo asked as if just realizing the similarities of the situation.

"Theo," Cephirial began. He was trying to do anything in his power to get the man to listen to reason. To get that knife away from Allen. "Put the knife down. It's me you're really after."

Theo seemed to consider his words for a little, tilting his head to the side, " _Hmm,_ yes, you're right, I _was_ only after you, you nephilim sympathizer. But," he pushed the knife further into Allen's flesh causing the boy to scream through his gag, "if I can take a nephilim out and get rid of you, all the better."

Then, faster than Cephirial could even process, Theo plunged the dagger into Allen's chest.

Theo laughed as he wrenched the knife from Allen's chest twisting the handle on the way out. Dark blood began to bubble out of the boy's chest. It was delightful, really, but Theo wasn't satisfied that just that would kill the boy. So he brought his dagger to the boy's throat and made a deep slice from one side to the other. He heard Allen let out a delicious gasp of absolute agony and then he dropped the boy, who fell to the ground like a sack of bloody potatoes.

Cephirial dropped his sword and raced to Allen's side, untieing him quickly and pulled him into his arms. God, this wasn't good. There was blood everywhere. He gently pulled the tape off of the boy's face.

"Ce-Cephi," Allen all but whispered. "I...I," he coughed and blood pooled out of his mouth.

 _"Shh_ , don't speak," he knew it was selfish but he wanted the boy to hold on as long as possible.

He pulled off his shirt and pressed it to the wound on Allen's neck. Soon the shirt was soaked.

Cephi looked up to see Allen's eyes were closed. His heart skipped a beat and he quickly looked to make sure the boy was still alive. It was faint, but he was breathing.

"Allen, Allen you have to open your eyes. Allen, don't go to sleep." Cephi saw him struggle to open his eyes back up. He turned his face in the direction of the heavens, "God, _please_ , if you have one ounce of sympathy for this innocent creature, let me save him," Cephi begged. For the first time since he was cast out of heaven, he wept.

He held the boy close.

"She won't help you," Theo laughed from somewhere behind him. "She didn't help the first time this happened. She won't help now."

Allen's eyes fluttered closed again. "Allen, _please_ , I need you to stay awake!"

Allen looked him straight in the eyes. Briefly his gaze became intensely focused and he gave Cephi a look of pure love. And Cephi knew then Allen didn't blame him for this happening and somehow that made the situation that much worse. The boy reached up and lightly caressed Cephi's face. Then his hand fell away and his gaze became unfocused. "Sorry," Allen whispered before his eyes closed.

This time they didn't open back up.


	17. Beautiful

Cephirial couldn't feel him breathing. "Allen?" he questioned gently, surly he couldn't be…

He couldn't even bring himself to think the word. And yet he knew. Knew that Allen was, he was… Cephi let out an anguished sob. "Allen," he wailed hugging the boy close. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to come here and save Allen. Not get him killed. And the person who had killed his precious Allen was still in the cave. Alive and well. If Cephi had his way that would change shortly. Theo had to die.

He could feel the man's presence somewhere behind him. "Theo you bastard," the angel growled still cradling the dead boy in his arms. "You absolute bastard."

Cephi was shaking with rage now. "Why did you have to kill him? Why?" He set the body down gently, lovingly, on the cave's floor.

The livid angel turned his attention fully to the only being he hated, truly hated with a passion that burned more steady and brighter than the fires of Hell. He stared at him with eyes overflowing with malice and became even more outraged when he noticed that Theo was smiling crazily.

The crazed angel said in a sing-song voice, "He had it coming, little half-breed scum." He began to sing this over and over again causing Cephirial's absolute last nerve to snap. "Listen you fucking bastard, this kid knew nothing of our world, he was innocent. And you killed him." In his rage his wings forced their way out… or what was left of them.

They stood majestic and horrifying from his back. Looking just as disgustingly tattered and misshapen as the day Theo had destroyed them.

Theo was still laughing hysterically when Cephi charged and tackled him to the ground where Theo continued to cackle.

"Ooh, you're angry," Theo stated as if he were surprised by the malice the other was showing him.

"You're about to find out just how angry I am," Cephi growled. He reached out his hand and his blade flew to him ready to do his bidding.

Theo's eyes shone with glee. Cephirial didn't seem to realize it yet, probably because he was absolutely pissed, but he was getting stronger. Theo used his dagger to slice into Cephi's leg. He smiled as the pain distracted the other man. It gave him enough time to switch their positions. Now Cephi was underneath him. Just how he liked it.

Theo raised his hands above his head, dagger held tight, getting ready to stab Cephi with all his might, but before he killed the man he wanted to get in one final round of gloating. "I've killed your disgusting nephilim lover, your sympathizer friend, Urial, and now, I'll kill you."

Cephirial watched as the blade fell toward him as if in slow motion. He heard the rumbling of thunder and smirked. God had been listening after all. And Theo had just admitted to committing the crime he had been accused of all those years ago, as well as killing another of angel blood. The blade bit into his flesh right as a lightning bolt came out of nowhere and struck the deranged angel.

Theo slumped against Cephi. Eyes lifeless. Cephirial couldn't quite suppress a cringe as he smelled the burnt flesh.

Quickly pushing the dead man off of him, Cephirial scrambled over to Allen.

He put his hands on the boy's chest. Never again would he see the boy smile, hear him laugh, smell his scent as they sat close to one another. He would never see him blush again or feel any warmth from the beautiful man's flesh. Never hear a sarcastic comment again, or see the hauntingly beautiful pictures he painted. Never kiss him again. Never do any of the stuff they could have done together if Allen had lived.

"Why?" he took in a shuttering breath. In heaven he had been powerful, a healer virtually capable of bringing someone back from the dead. But… when his wings disappeared, the healing power was greatly diminished. Now, he could only heal little cuts. Minor problems. If only he had more power. Finding angels were easy, healing… not so much. But still, he wanted to try. "Allen, please," this was hard. He willed something to happen, "Come back to me. I can't be alone. Not anymore. Not after knowing how wonderful life could be with you in it." He leaned his head down so he was close to that face. If not for all the blood, he'd look like he was sleeping. "Please, come back to me." He let a single tear fall onto the body and closed his eyes. He couldn't bring Allen back. He was too weak.

He decided he would stay with Allen until the boy's body was no longer warm with life. He clutched the body tightly to him and closed his eyes, just holding the boy for what would be the last time on this earth.

Unbeknownst to Cephirial, something was happen. Something was happening to Allen. The wounds on the boy's body began to glow. The wounds were glowing a bright blue and slowly, they began to stitch themselves closed. The light wove the cut skin back together until all that remained of the horrible lacerations were thin silver scars and the blood that had been spilled from Allen's body. And then ever so slightly one of Allen's fingers twitched. He took in a Gasp of breath and quickly returned the crushing hug from Cephi.

Cephirial pulled back a look of absolute belief on his face. "Allen, you're alive!" he whispered scarcely hoping this was more than a wonderful dream.

Allen looked up at him with tears in his eyes and nodded. He pulled the man into a gentle but searing kiss. And Cephi knew then that this wasn't a dream, that somehow Allen was alive again. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying being in each other's arms. Then, gently Cephirial took hold of Allen's chin and tilted the boy's head up to look into those beautiful eyes, "Allen, let's go home."

Allen nodded and for the first time since he woke up looked past Cephirial and saw the new appendages gracing the man's back. "Cephi, your wings," he whispered and Cephirial cringed. He had forgotten that those mangled clumps of flesh had managed to force their way out during the fight with Theo. He sucked in a breath, ready to throw some kind of explanation out to Allen of why they were so repulsive, even though the boy already knew why his wings were destroyed. But Allen's next words made Cephi choke on the half thought out explanation. "They're beautiful."


	18. A Promise

His wings were beautiful. I stared up at them in awe. Never had I seen something so lovely, so exquisite. He had told me how he became a fallen. How his wings had been ripped and destroyed, turned into useless scraps of the regal appendages they once were. But here Cephirial stood before me, somehow incredibly, with large powerful white wings.

He must have regained favor with God.

"Allen," the man before me was sick with worry. He hugged me tightly, as if he was afraid I'd disappear if he let me go. "I thought I had lost you," Cephi admitted quietly.

I could only shake my head to that statement and assured him in jumbled sentences that I was, in fact, alive. But even I had thought I was dead. I remembered it. The pain of the wound Theo had inflicted. I knew I was dying. The pain had been so unbearable. So great.

And then it just stopped.

Everything was warm and peaceful.

But I saw nothing.

Nobody was there to greet me, welcome me over. And I immediately thought there should have been _someone_ there. I wanted a certain brooding angel who had made my mundane life as a starving artist into something more.

And now I had him. I wasn't dead. And Cephirial wasn't either. We were both okay.

I took his hand in mine and started leading the way out of this area. Although I honestly had absolutely no clue where I was going, I knew where I wanted to go.

"Let's go home."

Cephi nodded.

I stopped when we got to the mouth of the cave and turned to face my angel. I gave him the most sheepish grin I could muster, "Uh, before we go any further maybe you should put your wings away."

Cephi grumbled something about forgetting the stubs had come out and I decided as soon as we got home I'd show him his wings were no longer the stubs he remembered.

I was surprised when we ended up at Cephi's house. We both decided we needed a shower. (which we took separately) He let me take one first and then I laid on his soft bed waiting for him to finish with his shower. I heard the water turn off and a few minutes later Cephirial walked out of the bathroom in only a pair of pajama pants. And boy was I glad the dresser was on the other side of the room. Gave me more time to ogle his perfect body.

He looked over to me and caught me staring. Feeling particularly bold, I just grinned and lifted a suggestive brow.

Cephi just sighed shaking his head before opening his dresser drawer and pulling out a simple white T-shirt.

It was then that I remembered that he had yet to see his wings. "Wait," I said quickly, "before you put that shirt on, there's something you need to see."

"Yeah, and what's that?" the angel asked a slight curious edge to his seductive voice.

I hopped off the bed and headed toward the bathroom motioning for him to follow me. There was nowhere else in the house with a mirror. When we were situated the way I wanted, him in front of the mirror, me at his side, I gently ordered him to take his wings out.

* * *

 

 

Cephirial didn't understand. Why would Allen tell him to take his wings out? He didn't want to be reminded of something he no longer possessed. If he was completely honest with himself, it was hard enough seeing Allen with that beautiful set of wings. He knew he was jealous, but it was just too much of a reminder. And asking him to look upon his stubby remains was a slap in the face.

He opened his mouth to tell Allen there was no way he would take them out, what happened when he was fighting Theo was a fluke and he was sorry Allen had to see it.

But the look Allen was giving him. Cephi internally groaned knowing he was going to lose this argument.

"Please trust me," the young man looked up at him with those soulful eyes and lightly brushed his hand on Cephi's bare shoulder. The angel delighted in the pleasant feeling those fingers sent through his body.

He sighed knowing Allen had won. He was going to take his useless stubs out... but that didn't mean he had to look at them. Cephi closed his eyes and slowly let his wings out.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Allen asked the man, obviously quite pleased with himself. "Open your eyes. Don't you want to see them?"

"No," Cephrial's firm answer came immediately.

"Fine," Allen snapped back. "Fine," he breathed out more gently realizing his tone had been a bit harsh.

Cephirial felt the boy walk behind him and immediately went tense. Sure normally the wings were a highly... _arousing_ and _sensuous_ area but that was when they were in tact. All a fallen angel felt was pain.

Allen placed his hands lightly on Cephi's back and slowly made his way to the base of the his wings. He corded his hands through the feathers and rubbed firmly but gently right where the tender skin met soft white feathers, smiling when Cephirial let out a loud moan.

The angel's brow crinkled in confusion. Why did it feel so good? He let out a throaty moan and his eyes snapped open in shock. He focused on Allen's impish grin before seeing white. Lots of white. His wings were healed! God must have forgiven him.

He gave a little shout of joy, turning around and grabbing his Allen capturing the man in an amorous embrace before kissing him searing and hard. He grabbed the man picking him up, and smirked into the kiss as Allen wrapped his legs tightly around Cephi's waist, causing a delicious friction in between them. He lead them out to the bed and slowly, lovingly, placed Allen down on it. The boy looked so alluring with those just kissed lips, panting ever so slightly from their activity in the bathroom.

He leaned over Allen and tugged at the boy's pants slowly asking permission to continue. Allen bit his lip and nodded his consent. All too soon Cephirial's angel was sprawled out naked on his bed, looking up at him through his eyelashes. A lesser man would have jumped him right there but Cephirial had more control than most and... also really wanted this to last a good portion of the night.

It was at that moment that Allen looked to Cephirial and realized with a pout that he had too much clothing on. He slowly crawled to the man and reached out pulling his pajama pants off. _Excellent_. He had been going commando which left Allen painfully close to Cephirial's erect penis.

He left out a little giggle. "I want to kiss you," he whispered like it was some big secret before languidly moving to a kneeling position on the bed so he could reach Cephirial's tantalizing mouth. His mouth opened easily when Allen licked at his bottom lip and their tongues were locked in a friendly battle that somehow ended with Cephirial sucking a particularly sensitive spot on Allen's neck. Allen let out an appreciative moan and bucked his hips forward which caused both men to groan as their groins created that oh so delicious friction.

Allen decided it was time to move their activities to a more horizontal direction. So he slowly began to lean back onto the bed, dragging Cephirial down on top of him.

Overcome with emotions, with how _right_ his life had suddenly ended up Cephirial opened his mouth to say something to that effect to his lover, "Allen I-

" _Shh_ , I know," Allen whispered his hand gently brushing Cephirial's face. And as Cephi looked into his eyes he knew Allen really did know all that he was going to say because he saw the same thoughts reflected in Allen's eyes.

* * *

 

 

I woke up to find myself in Cephirial's bed. I sighed content. Even if he wasn't here this morning, last night had been fantastic. My body ached in such a _good_ way and I felt fulfilled, complete. After lounging around in bed for another half hour I decided it was time to get up.

I got out of the bed stretching and quickly went to take a shower. Once I was all squeaky clean I got dressed in some clothes, generously provided by Cephirial, and went out into the main living area. I expected to see my angel somewhere out in here but after a quick look around I realized that he wasn't even in the house.

Where did he go?

Something about him leaving after we just made love like that felt off. Maybe he had some business he needed to take care of? I shrugged these thoughts off and decided to just go home. Cephi knew where I lived. He'd find me when he wanted me. I hoped.

The first thing I did when I got home was start up a routine again. I painted every day. Pictures of, you guessed it, Cephi. I couldn't bring myself to stop painting him, even though it hurt me to only see him in the paintings I created. But now there was sometimes another angel alongside Cephirial. An angel that bared an uncanny resemblance to me.

One week went by.

Then two.

I threw myself into my work so the pain of not seeing Cephirial wouldn't become too unbearable. Even so, I found myself much more prone to crying now and would just burst into tears at random times. Tim was worried about me. Heck, even Mr. Jacobson was worried that he hadn't seen one of my _friends_ lately. And I was worried, but for a different reason. I feared I would never see Cephirial again. That maybe that beautiful night had been a one time thing. But... that couldn't be all I meant to him.

He meant more than that to me.

After about a month I had just about given up hope of ever seeing him again. It was like he just disappeared form the planet. My life felt hollow and incomplete without Cephirial in it. But I had to continue living.

I was painting a picture late into the night, a habit I developed when I realized I saw him every time I closed my eyes, when there was a knock on the door.

I figured I might as well answer it. It was late, and the odds of it being a friend were slim, but when had a door ever kept the bad people out.

I opened the door.

Tears immediately fell from my eyes. I didn't know whether to be happy or extremely angry. I decided to go with happy. "Cephi," I all but whispered afraid if I spoke too loud this lovely man would disappear from my life a second time.

He smiled at me. "It took me over a month but I finally convinced that almighty _pain in my ass_ ," at his words there was a grumble of thunder, as if protesting his word, "that I wanted to be here with you."

So, he had been in heaven. He came back to _me_ from heaven. I giggled in my absolute joy and pulled him into a hug.

"I missed you," I spoke the biggest understatement of my life gently but still managed an unspoken _don't you dare leave me again._

"I love you," Cephirial answered. And to me those words were a promise. A promise that from now on Cephirial and me would always be together.


End file.
